


Secrets

by Anonymous



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 121,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8670217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: As he struggles to pull his life back together after a year of torture and captivity, Percival Graves finds himself with the fight of his life on his hands. To protect himself and the people he loves, he must track down one of the most powerful and dangerous wizards of their age, discover what it was he’s plotting, and stop him before he can hurt anyone else, all the while being hunted by the same man in turn. No big ask really.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title inspire by this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q701a0PIf-M

Nobody was particularly surprised when Grindelwald escaped just one month after his capture. _Disappointed_ , yes. _Embarrassed_ , without a doubt. But there were very few who could honestly say that the news, when it came, was shocking.

Privately, Percival Graves had always considered it a matter of _when_ and _how,_ rather than _if_. 

And thanks to that mindset he’d had time to prepare his appropriate response to the news. He was calm, stone-faced even. He put up a determined front, he even quipped about possibly getting his long-anticipated re-match with the man. All in all, he managed to hide the sheer terror (which had never truly left him after his release) that clawing at his insides like a rabid Sphinx.

Tina was concerned about him.

For a moment he was afraid that she’d seen through him - but it quickly became clear she was instead afraid he was going to do something rash.  Something like seeking Grindelwald out on his own.   
He had to grant her, it was a reasonable concern, but certainly not one with any actual merit. The last thing that he wanted to do was be in the same room as that man again. 

 

But if it was a concern of hers, that meant his act was clearly convincing. To be perfectly honest, he was more than a little concerned about the exact same thing, but in reverse. Tina had always been headstrong, determined, reckless for all the right reasons.

He made sure to walk her home that night.

“I’m not a child, Mr Graves,” she griped as they approached her block. “I can walk myself.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Percival replied calmly. “But you played a big part in Grindelwald getting captured. He’s a very powerful, twisted man. I hardly think the buddy system is an unreasonable precaution to take, Ms Goldstein.”

He shrugged.

“Besides,” he said. “I’m not being entirely selfless. I’ll rest a lot better knowing that you got home safe and… yourself.”

Tina frowned.

“What about you, sir?” she asked. “Surely you’re in more danger than any of us.”

She winced the second the words left her mouth and Percival felt a stab of frustration flash through him. She was afraid that she'd _frightened_ him.

He shut his eyes, drawing in a quiet, calming breath. She was trying to be considerate, not implying weakness. He had to be reasonable. 

So he shot her a small, reassuring smile instead and shrugged.

“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I’m hardly of any use to him now, am I? The element of surprise was more or less destroyed when his little trick was revealed in front of the entire DMLE.”

“...I suppose,” Tina said, as they came to a stop in front of the brownstone building. “Well, this is me. Thank you for the walk home Mr Graves. I will be alright. You… you just take care of yourself, Sir. Please.”

Percival smiled politely and inclined his head as she walked away. He waited a moment, for Tina to step into the building, then a little while longer - watching her window, waiting for the flashes of spellfire.

He was more than a little disgusted with himself for almost being disappointed when they did not come.

He’d not intended to use Tina as bait. But now all seemed well, there was no denying that there definitely was a degree of bitter disappointment swirling sickeningly in his gut. Fear too.

He didn’t want Tina hurt, but at least he’d have known where the bastard was if he had gone down that route, if he’d been lying in wait.  He’d have known and he’d have had the advantage this time. He’d have been able to get the jump on the other man. He’d have come out on top, beaten the monster. Humiliated him like Grindelwald had done him.

He blinked when he nearly collided with someone on the sidewalk.

“Watch where you’re going, Mister!!” the no-maj barked as he walked past, grumbling.

Percival looked around. He was by the Hudson. His feet had taken him from Tina’s apartment without him even realising.

Shaking his head roughly, he walked over to the water’s edge, leaning against the railing there and breathing in cold, winter’s air - trying to let it centre him in the here and now. There’d not been much fresh air to enjoy over the last year after all. 

His mind had wandered a lot recently. That’s what happens when one finds themselves locked away, he supposed. Retreating inwards was the only way to keep himself sane. When he was alone, and in the times when he wasn’t.

If he went far enough inwards he could imagine himself somewhere far away. Somewhere nice and comfortable. He’d imagined his living room a few times, his office, the dorms of Ilvermorny, the library, the woods, Theseus' London flat. He’d gotten so good at it sometimes he could imagine the taste, the feel, the smallest of sounds.

He was rarely allowed that brief relief in Grindelwald’s presence, however. More often than not, just as his mind started to drift away, it was invaded by another and dragged back to the present, to endure an entirely separate violation.

He could never really tell if those times had felt better or worse than the ones where his mind refused to drift all on its own.

He shook his head roughly and focused on the river again. He needed to focus. He didn’t want to have another episode. Already, he could feel cold, hard phantom fingers gripping the back of his neck, and the echo of an all too familiar pain ripping through him. It wasn’t something he wanted to relive again, not right there in the middle of a Manhattan street.

Drawing in another deep breath he stood up straight once more, pushing off the railing and making his way over to a more isolated spot, before disapparating across the river to his Brooklyn home.  

He nodded to the aurors stationed outside his townhouse, and again tried to push past a sudden wave of indignation. They were there for his safety. Those were their official orders at least. But he’d been in their position and made the order himself enough times to know they were also there to report back on his movements. If he came home later than usual, or god forbid, not at all, he’d be receiving a personal visit from the President.

He’d learned that already, after a night he and a bottle of firewhiskey spent together in his office a few weeks back. Waking up hungover, drooling onto one’s desk in front of one’s boss isn’t exactly an experience he wish to relive anytime soon.

He stepped inside and locked the door behind him. He loathed how even that got his heart pounding. The confinement, even self-imposed, unnerved him. But then leaving the door  _unlocked_ would fray at his nerves just as bad, if not worse. He'd spend the night sitting, straining to hear the sound of the door creaking open, of footsteps coming down the hall. 

He grit his teeth as he pulled off his coat and hung it up, before toeing off his shoes and nudging them to the side of the front step.

His mind just needed time to catch up, that was all. He was safe. There were aurors watching the house, locks and enchantments keeping people out. Furthermore, he was of no use to the mad man. He’d probably already fled the country. He was fretting over something that would never come to be. He was safe. Nobody was coming for him. Nothing was going to happen. It was all done. It was finished. He just needed to move past it now.

His fists clenched beside him as he felt his nerve beginning to slip again regardless of his attempts at reason. The feeling of hands running over his body, of being bare and vulnerable, an ache in his jaw, a bite on his shoulder-

Growling his punched himself hard in the thigh, then did so again a few more times until the pain of that brought him back from the edge.

It worked to some extent, but not entirely. It was still there. Those thoughts weren't going anywhere anytime soon, he was starting to doubt they ever would. He sighed. He had nights like this, when his incarceration was at the forefront of his mind. He supposed that on the day the man who’d held him prisoner for a year, who’d used him in every possible sense, slipped through the government’s fingers, it was to be expected. It didn't make it easier to bear though. 

So he tried to ignore it, and hoped it would fade away before long.

Later he’d chalk his underwhelming reaction to finding his former-tormentor sitting on his living room sofa all up to that. His exhaustion of the hyper-awareness to everything, the flashbacks, the fact that every other time he saw Grindelwald out of the corner of his eye, he wasn’t there when he looked back.

But this time he didn't disappear, and Percival felt his stomach drop the longer that remained the case. Terror had once been an unfamiliar emotion for him. Now it felt like an old friend - gripping the heart in his chest in a vice-like hold and squeezing it still.

His hands were slow and clumsy when they finally flew to his wand, but it was too late. Just as he gripped the handle, it slipped free and into the hand of his enemy.

“You were not expecting me, Mr Graves?” Grindelwald drawled, one of his pale brows rising. “I’m hurt.”

With _fight_ ruled out, _flight_ took over. Spinning on his socked heel, Percival attempted to make a run for the door, but before he could take more than a couple steps he felt a cord wrapping its way around his ankles,  binding them firmly together and sending him crashing to the ground hard enough to knock the wind of out him.

But he pushed past it.

Gritting his teeth, he banished the chords with a hasty wave of his hand and jumped back upright, before throwing himself at Grindelwald - bringing them both down to the ground. He snarled and smashed his fist into the other man’s face again and again. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight this time. Wand or not, he wasn’t going to go easily.

The room suddenly lit up with the white flash of magic and Percival found himself flying across the room, hitting the brick wall with a hard thud before falling to a heap on the floor.

“Now that wasn’t nice,” Grindelwald chuckled, before pointing his wand straight at Percival. “ _Crucio._ ”

A familiar agony washed over Percival as he body began to convulse. It felt like electricity running through the centre of his bones, splintering them and cooking him from the inside out.

The spell was lifted for a moment. Long enough for him to drag in a couple ragged gasped before they were ripped from him by another curse. Then another.

Eventually, it all started to blur together. Distantly he wondered why the aurors outside hadn’t come to investigate the noise. Perhaps a spell had been put on the room. Perhaps they been confunded. Perhaps they were in the bottom of a trunk, or the Hudson, and those men outside had been a pair of Grindelwald’s fanatics. He should have checked earlier. 

The curse was lifted and Percival slumped completely to the floor, every muscle in his body trembling and twitching of its own volition. He couldn’t move. His arms and legs were limp. He could only lay there in a heap on the hardwood floor, watching and listening as a pair of shiny black shoes walked across the room towards him.

A rough, pained cry escaped him when one of those shoes nudged him over onto his back.

He groaned as he looked up at his captor as Grindelwald magiced away all of the wounds he’d managed to inflict with an amused smirk.

“You know, I liked being you Mr Graves,” Grindelwald purred as he crouched down beside him, running his fingers through Percival's slicked back hair. “You’re an very enigmatic man. Strong, brave and yet so… _responsive_.”

He flinched as Grindelwald’s fingers moved from his hair, brushing down his cheek, over his lips, down his throat, then to the back of his neck. He couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped through his lips when they squeezed there. How many times had he been held in place by that grip alone? How many times had that been the precursor for what was to come?

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to let his mind slip away, but was brought back by a sharp slap across the mouth.

“Now, don’t be rude again,” Grindelwald scolded, before his hands carried on their way down his body, an amused smile playing at thin, pale lips.  “You know, when I was in that cell, I thought about how much I was going to miss having you here, like this. Our time together.”

Percival gasped when he felt Grindelwald slipping his hand into his trousers. The other man mockingly echoed it, chuckling at Percival’s attempts to wriggle away from the contact, but it was no good. No matter how much he squirmed and writhed, Grindelwald’s hands went where they pleased.

Tears that had been prickling at his eyes already began to trickle down his cheeks as a finger slipped between his arse cheeks, probing teasingly at his hole. Mercy Lewis, it was going to happen again. It _wasn’t_ over it was going to happen to him again. Nobody was coming for him he, _it was happening to him again!_

The hand shifted and came around to his front, cupping him gently for a moment before giving a violent squeeze, wrenching a pained cry from Percival. He let go again and went back to running his hands over him.

“And then I thought to myself,” Grindelwald breathed, leaning down so his breath was tickling Percival’s ear. “ _Gellert_ , I thought. _Why does it need to come to an end?_ ”

Percival flinched, cringing away when he felt something soft and wet stroking his ear. Grindelwald chuckled and nuzzled closer - like a lover would, rather than the tormentor that he truly was. And that, more than anything, inspired a quiet rage in Percival's heart. 

Breathing his sharply through his nose, he summoned as much of the strength he had left in him before tossing his head to the side, knocking it against the other man’s face. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when, with a hiss, the hands left him entirely.

But he knew the respite was short lived.

The crackle of electricity filled the room as Grindelwald shocked him two, three, four, five times. He lost track and, he thought, so had Grindelwald. The man had never really tolerated _rudeness_  quietly. Certainly not from Percival. 

When Grindelwald was finally satisfied, he couldn’t move at all. His body twitching helplessly on the floor.

Grindelwald tossed his head back with a breathless laugh, combing the tufts of hair that had fallen over his face back in place.

“Still so fiery,” he chuckled. “Most would have broken completely by now, but not you. That’s why I like you, Mr Graves,” he purred as he pulled off his coat and set down his wand, before walking over to Percival, this time with a sense of purpose. 

Percival groaned as he felt himself being rolled back over onto his belly, he knew what was coming next. He tried to move, but he couldn’t. His arms were trapped underneath him, pinned by the weight of his own body.

The cold, hard hands of his memory made quick work of his belt, and before long, his trousers and underwear had been tossed across the room, leaving his naked from the waist down.

Percival bit his lip in an effort to keep quiet as his hips were grabbed hard enough to bruise and he was heaved up onto his knees.

“If only you could see yourself,” Grindelwald uttered as he spat on his fingers before pushing three into Graves' hole at once, grinning wider at the pained sob that it ripped from the man. “You’d want to fuck you too.”

Percival grunted as the fingers fucked into him, stretching his hole wider roughly, before punching inside once again. He felt like he was being split open, perhaps he was. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s bled after an encounter with the man.

He was going to be sore after this, that was for sure.

He heard the sounds of a belt being undone behind him, and a shameful whimper ripped itself from his throat in response. 

“I want you to know something, Mr Graves,” Grindelwald said, sounding for all the world like they were conversing over tea. “You are of no importance to me, whatsoever.”

The fingers withdrew and Percival gasped when he felt the terribly familiar feeling of the other man’s cock pressing against his abused hole before pressing inwards.

“I could kill you right now and be no worse off for it,” Grindelwald said smirking at the pained whine he dragged from the other man as he jerked his hips forward, stabbing his cock almost entirely inside him.

The stretch ached, the spit hadn’t been enough to do anything to ease the experience on his end, though he expected that was by design. He could feel the friction of every movement, breathing hurt in that moment.

He tried to keep quiet but what was the use? He was being raped in his own home. He’d been beaten, bent over and taken from behind by the man who’d now bested him on countless occasions. And this wasn’t even the first time. What was the one more humiliation on top of everything else?

“But I’m not going to do that,” Grindelwald whispered as he started to move inside of Percival. The pain gasps and cries seeming to only heighten his enjoyment in the task, for each were rewarded with a particularly rough thrust, or a stinging slap.

Percival groaned when he felt a hand slip through his slicked back hair, before tightening violently. He was yanked upright sharply, until he was leaning back limply against the other man’s chest, the cock inside him as far as it could go, surely.

“Not tonight at least. Maybe in the future. But for the time being, I think I may just visit. Here and now, quite like I did back before,” he purred, his breath tickling Percival ear again before moving down his neck.

Percival shivered, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to will himself away once again only to be brought back by a sharp pain shooting from the crook of his neck. Grindelwald had sunk his teeth into the soft flesh, hard enough to break the skin. He gasped, then cried out when they sunk in deeper for a moment before pulling away.

Suddenly he was pushed forward again, onto his hands and knees, staying that way for a second, maybe two, before his arms gave out beneath him and he fell face first into the hardwood floor. He tasted blood in his mouth, and felt it trickling for his nose. How ironic. The most obvious outward injury from this entire encounter and it was down to his own weakness.

He tried to stay quiet as Grindelwald picked up the pace, now well and truly fucking into him hard and fast, treating him more like a $10 prostitute he picked up on a street corner rather than a sick parody of a lover like before. Even through the pain, Percival found he still preferred it like this. It hurt more, but at least it felt more like what it actually was this way.

The pace were getting harder, jerkier. It was coming to an end. He just needed to hold in there a little longer.

Sure enough, after one particularly hard thrust he felt the other man coming inside him, filling him up. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

Grindelwald stayed that way, going soft inside him for a moment longer before finally slipping out. He held onto Percival’s hips still, keeping them raised, and chuckled as his come slowly dribbled from the other’s bruised hole. Only then, when he'd had his fun, did he let go and allow him fall properly down onto the floor.

The fight well and truly beaten out of him, Percival simply curled in on himself, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

Those cold fingers came around his throat again, gripping it tightly. For a second he thought the other man might kill him (and he wasn’t sure he minded if he did). But the grip didn’t get tight enough to do anything other than make it uncomfortable to breathe and leave more bruises on his skin.

“There is _nothing_ you, or anyone else can do that will keep me away, my boy,” Grindelwald breathed, a smile spread across his face. “I will always be able to touch you. Whenever I want. Wherever I want. If I wanted it I could quite easily have you over your Presidents pretentious desk, and have her watch it too…” he hummed at the idea. “Perhaps I will, one day.”

He smiled, letting go of the other man’s throat once again, brushing his thumb over his bloodied lip - before getting to his feet. 

Percival watched warily as he set about adjusting his clothing and pulled on his coat.

Grindelwald smirked and tapped his brow in farewell.

“Until next time, Mr Graves,” he drawled, before walking down the hall, and out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't seem to get this story out of my head and you guys liked it so it looks like we're going to continue it a bit :D  
> Hope you all like it

Tina was pretty sure she’d never felt more awkward in her whole life. She was standing at the end of her boss' block, outside his home for pity sake!

This was wrong. This was so wrong! It was an invasion of his privacy. He’d be so mad, livid, when he found out - and she couldn’t even blame him for it.

And yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave either. The bad feeling from before was still there, deep in her gut.

Something was wrong. _Terribly wrong._

She looked around the street and frowned.

“What is it, Teenie?” her sister asked beside her, frowning as well.

Tina paused a moment longer, then turned around on the spot, but she couldn’t find what she was looking for.

“Teenie?”

“There are supposed to be aurors here,” she said. “Watching the house. They should be _right here_.”

“I don’t see anyone,” Queenie uttered, clearly quite unnerved herself.

Tina grimaced, her heart beating hard in her chest as she pulled her wand from under her coat.

“Exactly,” she said, shooting her sister a worried look. “Come on. Something’s gone wrong.”

Queenie’s eyes widened a bit at that, but she nodded all the same and drew her wand as they made their way over to Mr Graves’ house.

“I don’t suppose they just went to fetch some coffee,” she suggested hopefully. “Cos of the cold.”

“They’re guarding Mr Graves’ house,” Tina replied, her senses on high alert. “How stupid would you have to be to leave your post for coffee.

They drew closer to the door. Her wand clutched tight in her right hand, Tina reached out to the door. Her hand had just brushed the cold metal of the doorknob when someone grabbed the back of her coat suddenly.

She very nearly hit her head on the stoop roof... at least it felt that way.

“Queenie!” she hissed, shooting an annoyed glance over her shoulder. It slipped from her face as quickly as the colour seemed to be draining from her sister’s.

“Queenie? What is it?”

“Mr Graves, He’s hurting, Tina,” Queenie uttered, eyes wide and shocked. “He’s hurting real back. I can hear it.”

“Try and put your walls up,” Tina whispered, squeezing her sister’s hand reassuringly before turning back to the door and, after taking a quick breath, pushing it open and leading the way inside.

She wasn’t at all prepared for what she found in the living room.

The room itself seemed fine. In fact it was as neat and orderly as its owner’s office. But it also had the aforementioned owner bleeding on the floor of it.

“Oh my god! Mr Graves!” she gasped, dashing across the room to where her boss was lying motionless on the floor, kneeling beside him. He was bleeding from his nose and mouth, a spot on his shoulder too by the looks of it.

His eyes were open but they didn’t seem to be focused on anything. More disturbing still was the fact that he was only partially clothed. Tina’s mind instantly jumped to what that must mean, but she rejected it. That sort of thing didn’t happen to people like Mr Graves. It had to be something else.

She quickly lifted her wand and cast it around the room, realising she’d not yet properly cleared the house

“Queenie! Queenie where are you?” she called, getting back to her feet.

“Here! I’m here!” Queenie gasped, running back into the rooming, Graves’ coat held aloft, before she tossing it over him so he was a little more covered.

Tina cursed herself. She’d not even thought of that.

“Queenie, look after him. I’m going to clear the house,” she said. “I don’t think anyone’s still here but I’m going to make sure.”

Queenie nodded, determined. She raised her wand as well, ready for anything that might come.

“Alright,” she said. “Shout if you find anything.”

Tina smiled grimly, nodding back before getting to her feet and leaving the room to check out the rest of the house.

* * *

 

Queenie watched her sister go before turning her attention to the man lying on the floor at her feet.

He was trembling something terrible. Some of it had to be from the cold, it was a very cold, bare house. But Queenie knew it wasn’t just that. She could feel the pain, terror and shame rolling off of the man in big, heavy waves. 

“Mr Graves. Mr Graves, can you hear me?” she whispered, kneeling down beside him. “Mr Graves, you’re safe. Teenie’s checking the place out now, and then we’ll go get you some help.”

He didn’t seem to hear her.

Biting her lip, she glanced around before shutting her eyes and letting her mind follow one of the threads of thought coming out from Graves’.

_She heard the sea. She couldn’t see it yet but she could hear it. It came as a surprise. It sounded nice, peaceful, a beach or a Pier maybe. Children were laughing. She could smell chips. There was a warm touch her cheek and it made her heart flutter a little in her chest. But soon the touch turned cold, the hand hard._

_“_ Mine _,” a cold voice whispered, echoing in her ears. “_ You’re mine. You’ll never escape. You’ll never be safe from me. You’re mine _”_

_A hand gripped the back of her neck hard, sharp pain shot through her shoulder-_

“Goldstein!”

Her eyes snapped open, meeting dark and, thank Merlin, lucid ones.

“Ms Goldstein,” Graves uttered, his voice seemed pained but firm all the same. Queenie blinked, looking around, before down to the hand gripping her forearm. “Are you back?”

Queenie nodded shakily, only then noticing that she too had begun trembling.

Graves grimaced but nodded back.

“Good,” he uttered, letting the hand drop. “Don’t come into my head again, Ms Goldstein,” he uttered, shutting his eyes for a moment. “You won’t like the mess.”

“I… I was trying to help,” she uttered.

Graves nodded his understanding as he attempted to push himself upright, but his arms were still weak.

He let out a frustrated huff when he fell back to the floor. He saw his trousers lying across the room and stretched out a hand for them, attempting to summon them over to him, but it seemed he was too weak for that too.

Queenie frowned, watching the man with confusion before following his line of vision.

She gasped and jumped to her feet, fetching the trousers and bringing them back over to him.

“He’re, let me help you,” she said, before carefully easing him up so he was sitting. She startled a little when he let out a pained hiss, before seeming to bite it back.

Tina ran back into the room.

“The house is clear- Mr Graves!”

“Ms Goldstein,” Graves uttered in reply, as he reached for his trousers, grimacing a little before glancing up at the sisters poitedly.

“Oh!” Queenie gasped, hopping to her feet before turning around so her back was to him, tugging Tina’s coat until she too turned her back to give the man a little privacy.

“Mr Graves, sir, what happened?” Tina asked, staring straight across the room at the old fireplace.

_I was stupid. I was weak. Got what I deserved for being so stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid!_

“Mr Graves.”

_I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to. I don’t. It’s not up to me. He needs to be caught. He needs to be stopped. He could do this to someone else. He could be doing it now. I don’t want to. I’ve got no choice. Why can’t I have a choice. Why isn’t this my choice?_

Queenie squeezed her eyes shut as the bombardment of thoughts and emotions hit her,  before suddenly they stopped. No, they were muffled. Like she was listening from another room. She was being blocked out.

She glanced over her shoulder, spotting the man easing his trousers up over his hips, face scrunched up with pain. Her eyes widened at the dark, finger shaped bruises curling around his hips.

_Hurts. It hurts. It always hurts._

“Mr Graves?” Tina prompted again, worried he’d slipped back into the state they’d found him in.

“It was Grindelwald,” Graves finally grit out.

The sister turned back around when they heard the quiet clack of a belt being buckled.

“He was here?!” Tina gasped.

“Yes. He… he was waiting for me here. Got the jump on me and I was too slow to get out,” Graves said. His voice was matter of fact enough, but there was definitely a hint of frustration, and something else.

“What did he want?” Tina asked.

_To play?_

“I don’t know.”

Queenie frowned at that last thought, then some more when she spotted her sister carefully drawing her wand once more.

_He wouldn’t try it again, surely. But if anyone would…”_

“Teenie,” Queenie hissed, shaking her head firmly.

Graves seemed to catch onto the unspoken conversation all the same, freezing as he eyed the wand in his auror’s hand. He looked up at her, before  raising his hands slowly.

“Check,” he prompted. “Ms Goldstein, check me.”

“Teenie. It’s him.”

“We can’t be sure,” Tina uttered, before lifting her wand and pointing it at Graves. “ _Revelio._ ”

Graves grimaced a little as the spell ran over him. Like a whole body shiver, but nothing painful. Nothing like anything else he’d endured that night.

He cocked his head to the side a fraction when the sensation left, the charm done, leaving him unaffected.

“Ms Goldstein?”

Tina kept her wand trained on him for a moment, before grimacing and dropping it to her side.

“I’m sorry sir.”

“It’s your job to be mindful of these things,” Graves uttered, wincing as he dropped his hands. “No apology needed. And explanation would be nice though. Why are you here?” he asked. 

“I.... It’s hard to explain sir,” Tina uttered, ears going a bit pink.

“Try me,” Graves groaned as he drew in a deep breath before starting to push himself up to his feet.

“I just… I had a bad feeling, Sir,” Tina uttered. “Deep down in my gut. It’s never been wrong before.”

“Are you a seer-ugh!” Percival gasped, losing his balance a little as he got to his feet. He managed to catch himself against the wall but it sent shockwaves of pain through his whole body. He grit his teeth and drew in a deep breath before pushing off the wall and stumbling forward a couple of paces. The sisters darted forward to steady him, ducking under his arms and taking a side each as they helped him over towards the sofa.

“Are you a seer too?” he finally panted, pain lacing his voice.

“I… I don’t think so sir,” Tina replied, her voice coming out a squeak. He was scaring her. He needed to get a grip.

“Well, seems your gut was right on the money this time,” he uttered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, trying to summon as much strength as he could. He needed to keep himself together Needed to get this over with.

“What happened to the aurors outside?” he asked.

“They weren’t there when we came here,” Tina reported back.

Graves nodded sharply.

“Right then,” he said, summoning as much authority about himself as he could. “This is a crime scene. Goldstein, I need you to report what’s happened back to MACUSA. Go straight to the president’s office. Ms Goldstein, you go as well. I’ll be right behind you.

“You shouldn’t be alone sir.”

“I just need to find my wand before my house is turned upside down,” Graves uttered, shaking himself free from their grasp and staggering the rest of the way over to the sofa where Grindelwald had put his coat before he- He cut the thought off before it started.

Not now. He couldn’t think about it now. Those cold hand, running over him, touching him, touching him everywhere no matter what he did. He couldn’t stop him. He couldn’t stop it. He could never stop it-

“Mr Graves!”

“Ms Goldstein, I’ll be right behind you!” Graves barked, anger taking over from the terror for a moment. Good. He could control anger. He could use that. “Go to the President. Tell her Grindelwald has been sighted in New York in the past hour. Do it now! That’s an order!”

Tina hesitated, biting her lip and looking at him wide eyed for a moment longer before giving a small nod and stepping back.

“Come on Queenie,” she uttered, before the two of them left the house.

Graves let out the ragged breath he’d been holding once they were gone, drawing in another, but he choked on it. Pressing a fist to his chest he tried to focus on breathing as he groped around his sofa desperately for his wand. He needed his wand. He needed to be ready if he came back. He couldn’t be vulnerable again. Where was his wand?!

A choked sob of relief ripped itself from his throat when finally his fingers wrapped around the familiar, smooth wood handle.

His legs gave out under him and he was just able to catch himself on the edge of the sofa before sliding back down to the floor, clutching the thin slip of wood to his chest as his breath came out in ragged pants.

He needed to pull himself together. People would be coming any second now. They mustn’t see him like this. He needed to pull himself together. He needed to just get through the next few hours and then… he’d deal with _then_ after that.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a series of pops came from outside.

Drawing in a deep breath in through his nose, he pushed himself up to his feet.

He needed to get through this. He had no choice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small chapter today. I will add some more tonight. Hope you guys are all liking it still :)

Drawing in a deep breath, Percival slipped his wand back into the hold he had for it on his belt before limping across the room. He picked up his abandoned coat for the floor, dusting it off as aurors started to stream into the house, wands raised .

He pulled on his very best mask of calm, but still pretty annoyed with what happened as he moved over to the side of the room to give them space to work.

“Mr Graves,” Picquery said as she and her entourage of personal security walked into the room.

“Madam President,” Percival replied, inclining his head in acknowledgement.

Picquery nodded back before turning her attention back to the room, taking it all in.

“There doesn’t seem to have been much of a battle,” she observed, blunt as ever.

Percival nodded all the same.

“There wasn’t one,” he confessed, keeping his tone carefully matter of fact. “He’d managed to breach the wards put in place on the building and was waiting for me when I entered. I was caught off guard I’m afraid.”

Picquery hummed.

“The aurors that were stationed outside?”

“They were here when i returned home,” he said. “But I didn’t speak with them, or get a proper look. They could well have been imposters.”

“Then we must consider them missing until proven otherwise,” Picquery replied.

Percival nodded.

He watched on as Picquery started doling out orders. He kept his silence, stamping down the frustration and indignation as a group of the aurors, his subordinates, were ordered to go through his home with a fine toothed comb. It had to happen. But at the same time, it just felt like one more invasion upon him.

He sighed and shook his head, turning his attention back to  Picquery when she turned to him.

“Mr Graves I’m going to have to request you report back to headquarters immediately. Your statement needs to be taken,” she said. “Please hand over your wand also.”

Percival froze.

“Excuse me?” he uttered

“It’s a matter of precaution,” Picquery replied calmly, though now Graves looked around properly, he noticed that those left surrounding him all had their wands in hand.

He frowned at that.

“I’m not an imposter,” he said firmly, his hand slowly inching back to his own wand.

“It’s true Ma’am,” Tina insisted, stepping forward earnestly. “I checked myself.

“I’m sure you have, Ms Goldstein, but Gellert Grindelwald is a very powerful wizard. Although in all likelihood you’re right, precautions must be taken,” Picquery replied, before turning back to him. “Mr Graves, please hand over your wand and report back to headquarters to make your statement and have your identity confirmed.”

Percival grit his teeth, wrapping his fingers around the handle of his wand.

“No,” he said cooly.

“Excuse me?”

“I will make a statement, but I’m not handing over my wand,” he said. “I’m not a criminal, I will not be treated as one.”

“Mr Graves, time is of the essence,” Picquery said impatiently. “Hand over your wand now or it will be taken from you.”

“I’m not him, dammit!” he snapped, rage suddenly flowing through him like fire.

Right this moment he didn’t particularly care that it seemed to alarm most of the room, seeing their usually level-headed boss losing his cool like this.

"Time _is_ of the essence and you're wasting it! Grindelwald is still in the country. He could still be in this city. We have aurors missing and you’re following this ridiculous line of inquiry?!”

He snarled quietly when one of the aurors attempted to disarm him, blocking the charm with a flick of his wrist. He staggered back against the wall as soon as he did. It took a lot more energy than it should have.

“Mr Graves,” Picquery said, brows arched as she stepped forward, wand level with his own. “You will be coming going back to headquarters, and your identity will be checked by one of the warlocks there. You can either come quietly, or be taken against your will.”

His wand was shaking considerably in his hand with the effort to keep it up. The world was starting to get a bit fuzzy around the edges at this point.

He needed to stop this. They were wasting time. He had nothing to hide. He just had to go back and get the truth confirmed and he’d have his wand back. He shouldn’t be resisting like this, it was making the situation worse. He was making himself look guilty.

He knew all of this, but at the same time he _knew_ he couldn’t hand over his wand. He couldn’t be left vulnerable again, not with Grindelwald on the loose. He could be anywhere. He could get to him anywhere. Nowhere was safe. He had to be ready _everywhere_.

“I won’t,” Percival snarled back, though he was afraid his voice hitched a bit as his breathing became more laboured. “This is ridiculous!”

“Mr Graves I will not ask again,” Picquery ordered, lifting her wand a little higher.

He tried to do so himself, ready to block whatever spell she sent his way. His whole arm was shaking at this point, he was leaning completely against the wall. He must have looked absolutely ridiculous, but he had to do it all the same. He couldn’t surrender his wand. He couldn’t.

The world was getting blurrier. He could just make out Picquery lifting her wand ready to cast. He summoned a shield of his own, but soon realised that it had been too much. Way too much.

The last thing Percival saw before the world tilted to the side and went to black entirely, was that calm, authoritative face going slack with surprise as he crumpled to the floor and passed out entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any thoughts or theories, please share them, I'd love to hear them :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this up. I meant to post it before work but wasn't happy with it just yet. Should hopefully have the next part up sooner. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's commented. Seriously, you all make my day with every notification I get XD

“Why isn’t he moving?” Queenie whispered.

“They had to sedate him a bit,” Tina whispered back, running a hand through her hair before nodding over to where a collection of aurors and the head healer were getting seen to a few beds down. “He was a bit… alarmed, waking up.”

 _He was feral actually_.

“Teenie!” Queenie gasped, slapping her sister’s arm reproachfully.

“I know, I know,” Tina sighed, looking over to the still form of her boss, laying on one of the Med Bay beds, a metal cuff shackling him to it by the ankle.  “It was just scary. I’ve never seen him like that. I don’t think he even recognized us.”

“Maybe he didn’t,” Queenie said.

Tina frowned.

“Queenie, what did you see inside his head?” she asked, arching her brow suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Queenie said quickly.

Tina shot her a disbelieving look.

Queenie pouted, before letting out a heavy sigh.

“I didn’t see anything. I just heard a lot,” she confessed. “He was thinking about the seaside when we came in.”

“The seaside?” Tina said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s a clue? Maybe Grindelwald said something about it. Maybe he could be hiding out by the seaside. Or the river. We should shut down the ports!”

Queenie shook her head.

“It didn’t seem like that,” she said. “I think it was the furthest thing he could imagine from what happened, and Grindelwald. It started out a happy memory.”

“Started?”

Queenie grimaced at the memory of those card, hold hands.

“It… another memory invaded it. Corrupted it. I think it was _him_.”

“Grindelwald?”

“Yeah. He was saying…” she lowered her voice and said in the most sinister way she could manage, “You’re mine. There’s no escape.” She shrugged.  “That sort of thing.”

Tina raked her fingers through her hair once again and sighed.

“Well, it makes sense I suppose. If you were held prisoner by a fella for over a year, and he turns up in your living room a month later, you’re probably gonna get a bit worried it’ll never end,” she said. “Even if you’re Mr Graves.”

Queenie hummed.

“You don’t think so?” Tina asked asked.

“I don’t know,” she said. “That’s probably a part of it. But there’s something else. Something more.”

She turned to look at her sister, a sombre expression darkening her features. “Something really bad happened to him tonight. But he blocked me before I saw it,” she said.

“Well it was sort of obvious something bad had happened when we found him beat up, Queenie,” Tina sighed, shaking her head as she leaned back against the wall. She jumped back off it a moment later when the President strode in, sans her escort this time.

Tina bit her lip as the woman looked around the Med Bay, surveying the damage that had been wrought upon it, before finally turning her attention to her.

“Goldstein. Report.”

Tina cleared her throat.

“There’s not much to be reported really, Ma’am,” she said. “Mr Graves woke up as he was being examined by the healers. He seemed to be a little delirious at the time Ma’am. It took 6 of us to pin him down. One of the healers forced a drowsiness draught into him. He’s been quiet since then.”

Picquery nodded, folding her arms over her chest.

“Has his identity been confirmed?” she asked.

Tina nodded.

“The warlocks checked him over in every way they could think of. It’s Mr Graves.”

Picquery arched her brow a little at that and looked around the room, which in stark contrast to Graves’ house, looked like it had been hit by a hurricane.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes Ma’am. It’s him,” Tina replied, nodding firmly. “He was just a bit… alarmed, waking up. Like I said, he came to mid-examination. And Mr Weiss was the one doing the examination.”

“How is that relevant?”

“Well, Ma’am… forgive me, but Mr Weiss has been quite open about not having much time for aurors,” Tina said, scratching behind her ear. “I… by the sounds of it, he feels the same about Mr Graves. I… I wasn’t allowed to observe, of course. But he didn’t sound like he was taking care during the examination before Mr Graves woke up… or after.”

Picquery arched her brow a little at that, making a mental note to address that little situation at a more convenient time.

“I take it it was on Mr Weiss’ orders Mr Graves has been shackled to the bed,” she commented, brows rising again.

Tina blushed and nodded.

“Yes Ma’am. I did protest… but I don’t have authority here.”

Picquery hummed. It was clear to Tina that the woman was not the least bit pleased with how the situation had been handled.

“Well, we’ll sort that out momentarily,” she said. “Do you have anything else to report?”

“No Ma’am. Like I said, the warlocks are all confident that Mr Graves is… well, himself. Mr Birling says that he’ll bet his wand on it.”

Picquery hummed.

“Well I suppose there’s no surprise there,” she said, though Tina picked up on a hint of disappointment in her tone. “He’s daring, but trying the same trick twice is perhaps just a step too reckless for him.”

Tina grimaced and nodded.

“There were no clues left in the house?”

“I still have people going through it all, but we’ve not found anything yet,” Picquery said. “It seems he managed to trick the wards into believing that it was Graves himself somehow.”

“Perhaps he had some polyjuice potion left?” Queenie suggested. 

Picquery arched his brow at that, before replying dryly, “That shouldn’t have been enough. I’m afraid we may never work out on our own how he managed that one. But we will certainly try.”

Tina nodded firmly.

“What about Mr Graves?” she asked. “What should we do with him?”

“Well, his recent behaviour aside, that should likely be a conversation we have _with_ him, Ms Goldstein.”

Tina cringed a little at that, nodding as her cheeks flamed bright red.

“Yes. Of course. Sorry Ma’am,” she replied.

“Have the healers finished their examinations?” she asked.

“Yes Ma’am. Mr Weiss says he was very thorough and will report to you directly.

“Of course,” Picquery replied, sparing a groggy looking Graves a quick glance, before turning on her heel and making her way down the corridor of beds to where the Head Healer was sitting.

“Mr Weiss,” she said. “I need a report on Mr Grave’s condition.”

The man huffed mightily at that.

“He’s barking mad!” he snapped, pointing sharply to the, admittedly, impressive bump on the top of his head.

Picquery rose one of her brows all the same, silently encouraging the man to answer her question properly.

Eventually, with a lot of flaring of nostrils and grinding of teeth Mr Weiss huffed, “He has symptoms consistent with overstimulation of the nociceptors.”

Picquery’s rose her brow a little higher still.

“The pain receptors,” the healer elaborated, his hands fluttering in front of him. “His pain receptors have been stimulated. I expect it was probably the work of the cruciatus curse, or something similar, considering the lack of related superficial injury. But that’s just an educated guess.”

“So he was tortured?” Picquery replied, keeping her tone calm.

“So it would seem,” the healer sniffed as he poked his bump a few times with his own wand. “I’ve no sympathy for him. I was in the middle of examining me when he started conducting himself like a brute.”

“Mr Weiss,” Picquery said sternly, folding her arms over her chest. “Please just stick to the details.”

The healer grumbled under his breath before continuing.

“He has a few superficial injuries to his face and shoulder. Cuts and bruises. I’ve not gotten around to healing those yet.”

“Because?” 

The man jabbed his finger up at the bump on his head once again, looking quite cross that she didn’t seem to be taking it with the seriousness he deemed it to deserve.

Picquery was starting to lose patience with him.

“Is there anything else Mr Weiss?” she asked.

“Beside obvious mental disfunction?”

Picquery rolled her eyes before turning on her heel and making to leave.

“Good day Mr Weiss.”

“No, Ma’am, there’s one more thing,” Mr Weiss replied, hopping off the bed and taking a couple of steps after her.

Picquery turned back, fixing him with a look that said very clearly that he’d better not be wasting her time.

“Yes?”

“He had some pretty bad rectal tearing,” Mr Weiss replied ,without any preamble.

Picquery blinked at that. Behind her a metal tray clattered to the ground as Tina tripped right over it in her shock.

“I beg your pardon?”

“He’s been well and truly buggered, Madam President,” the Healer replied with a hint of glee in his nasty little eyes. “Recently I expect. All things considered.”

“All things considered?”

“Well, he had come in his shorts,” he replied, shrugging. “I was in the middle of examining those wounds when he lost his senses.”

Picquery fixed the man with an incredulous glare.

“Mr Weiss,” she said cooly. “By your own account, it appears that within the past hour Mr Graves has been beaten, tortured and very possibly sexually assaulted, and you do not conceive why he may react in a volatile manner to waking up to find himself being manhandled by another man.”

Mr Weiss sniffed.

“One cursory glance around should have been reassurance enough that he was being seen to by healers,” he huffed.

It struck Picquery quite suddenly that Mr Weiss, in fact, had no conception of the dangers and trauma her aurors experienced in their line of work. After this encounter she made an amendment to her earlier mental note, that is: to see to it Mr Weiss was replaced as head healer immediately.

She turned her attention back to the man in question, who appeared to still be talking, or rather, ranting about the fuss that had been caused by, so far as he could see, a failing of the auror department.

“Perhaps if the wizards in their ranks were a little more competent I wouldn’t spend half my time attending to trivial injuries and devote it, instead, to the maladies of greater importance to wizarding society as a whole. But then I suppose I shouldn’t hold out hope if the _head_ of said department is so pathetic as to allow himself to be violated in his own-OW!”

Picquery watched as a reflex hammer set about batting the man around the head, paying special attention, it seemed, to the bump on the top of it.

After a moment of watching this she turned around to look at the Goldstein sisters. However neither of them had their wands in hand, or seemed to be contributing to the situation at all, aside from gawping.

She turned her attention then to Graves, who, though certainly looking rather worse for wear, was awake, his hand subtly raised from the thin mattress, fingers dancing in time to the squawks the hammer was drawing from Mr Weiss.

“Graves.”

The hammer stopped mid air, as brown eyes turned their attention to her.

Eyebrows raised she shot him a pointed look.

Sniffing, Graves dropped his hand back to the mattress. At the same time the hammer dropped down on top of the bump on Mr Weiss’ head.

Picquery nodded firmly before turning her attention to the Head Healer once more.

“Thank you for your time Mr Weiss. Please report to my offices tomorrow morning. You and I should probably discuss these research goals of yours in a bit more detail, and decide whether they have any place here at the Magical Congress.”

With a firm nod she turned back around and made her way over to Graves.

She grimaced slightly as she passed Tina Goldstein, who looked quite pale after this new information.

Finally she came to a stop beside Graves’ bed.

“You’ve had quite the night, haven’t you?” she commented dryly.

Graves arched his brow a little at the comment, the corner of his lips twitching, but not for long.

“So it seems,” he sighed.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t have the chance. 

“Would you have if you did?” Picquery asked.

“No,” Graves replied simply.

She nodded.

“I thought as much,” she said. “Am I correct in assuming that this is not a new development?”

Graves grimaced and turned his attention stubbornly to the railing running along the side of his bed.  

“I don’t see how the answer to that bears any relevance to the situation,” he said.

“You omitted information in your initial reports,” she commented.

Graves snarled quietly with frustration as he pushed himself upright, the sheets pooling around his waist. To her surprise, his torso was bare, and he seemed to be similarly undressed in areas left covered. She imagined it was likely a small act of revenge on Mr Weiss’ part.

“It bore _no_ relevance,” he grit out. “I reported various instances of mistreatment, I expect that should be enough to protect me from disciplinary matters. But if it’s not, I will co-operate accordingly.”

“Graves, if we’d known we could have helpe-”

“How?” Graves replied, eyes flashing angrily for a moment. “I already had aurors outside my house, reporting my every move. There are wards upon wards put in place, and I’m not exactly helpless on my own. And yet Grindelwald still seems to have gotten the better of all of these measures. What additional course of action should have been taken with the knowledge that as well as being locked away and periodically tortured, I was occasionally used to pleasure the bastard in other manners?”

Picquery stood silently, looking the man up and down as, after a moment, the rage seemed to die out as quickly as it had been born.

“Madam President, I-”

“There’s no need.”

“I should have spoken like that,” Graves continued, looking embarrassed by his outburst. “I apologise, Ma’am. It’s… it’s been a long night.”

“Indeed,” Picquery replied, nodding.

Graves squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before drawing in a deep breath and turning his attention back to her. The change was so stark it almost appeared a physical mask had been pulled over his face, rather than a metaphorical one.

“Madam President, if I can have my clothes returned to me and be released from this bed I will make a full and comprehensive report on what’s happened tonight before taking part in the search for Collins and Wilson.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Mr Graves,” she replied.

A confused frown flashed across the man’s face.

“I’m ordering you to take medical leave for a minimum of one week,” she said firmly.

Graves blanched.

“Madam President-”

“That’s an order, Mr Graves,” she said. “Not a topic of debate.”

“Madam President, I’m fine,” he insisted.

“Your home is currently a crime scene and it seems clear to me that, for whatever reason, you have become a target of Gellert Grindelwald. You will require protection,” she said, ignoring the look of disbelief and outrage playing across Graves’ face. “Ms Goldstein?”

“Yes Madam President?” Tina answered, eyes wide as she stepped forward.

“You have a room to spare, yes?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Tina replied, cringing when she spotted Graves shaking his head firmly a moment too late.

“Excellent, then it’s settled. Graves, you will stay with Ms Goldstein as you rest and recuperate. Ms Goldstein, you will provide protection for Mr Graves and update me on the situation as it develops.

“Madam President,” Graves thundered. “I do not agree to any of this! 

“It’s an order, Mr Graves. Not a request,” Picquery replied firmly, before giving a nod to all parties present (all of whom seemed shocked at the way things had turned out), before sweeping out of the room without another word.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the bit of a delay between chapters guys. The weekend ended up being a good deal busier than I was expecting. 
> 
> All the same. I hope you enjoy. As always if you have any idea or theories, leave them in the comments, I love to hear them. 
> 
> Also thanks so much to everyone who has commented. Those little notifications really do make my day :)

He was being held prisoner… again.

Tina and Queenie were much kinder wardens than is last, of course, but that didn’t change that he was being held prisoner in their appartment.

He wasn’t allowed to leave without an escort, he wasn’t allowed to go to work, he wasn’t even allowed to have work sent in for him to do in the house. Even leaving the room almost always resulted in questions of where he was going and what his intentions for doing so were.

He understood that Tina had been given direct orders from the president to guard him, but he thought she may be taking the situation a bit far.

He was trying to be patient. But Mercy Lewis it was getting hard. It had only been one day and he was sick of it. He was so sick of it.

He wanted to go home. He wanted to work, to join the search party for his aurors, to be proactive. All of this was not only a waste of his time, but entirely unnecessary. It’s not the first time he’d been buggered by the man for pity sake. He wasn’t about to fall to pieces over it now. If it was going to happen it would have been long before this point.

He sighed heavily when the bustling about in the kitchen stopped the moment that thought crossed his mind. Sure enough, when he looked up he found Queenie watching him.

Gritting his teeth he pushed himself up from the sofa, trying his very best not to wince, though he feared he did. He was still tender in places he didn’t like to think about and feared he would be for a while yet.

“Please don’t read my mind, Ms Goldstein,” he muttered for what felt like the thousandth time as he walked past.

He flinched sharply when the woman reached out to touch his arm.

“Mr Graves,” she said, looking at his with the expression he was quickly coming to absolutely despise. The concern, and most aggravatingly, the pity.  “You-”

“I’m going to have a shower,” he said, cutting off what was no doubt going to be another gentle attempt to steer him away from the truth of the situation. “Excuse me.”

He walked down the narrow hall and stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. His heart beat a bit faster once the bolt slid in place. His mind instantly began to buzz. _That’ll take at least a second to unlock. Maybe a two if you fumble. You know what he can do in a few second-_

He whacked himself as hard as he could around the head, doing it again until the voices shut up a little.

“Mr Graves! Are you alright?!” Tina asked from behind the door, making him flinch anew.

Percival clenched his teeth, squeezing his hands into tight fists beside him for a second before replying once he was sure his voice was steady enough, “Yes. Fine. I’m having a shower, so…” he trailed off, hoping that she’d get the message; that he’d not have to lower himself to actually asking permission to shower un-chaperoned.

“Oh of course. Call if you need anything.”

He gave a grunt of acknowledgment, staying silent until he heard her walk away before trying his best to relax. But the rage continued pumping through his veins, like a dark poison, tainting his mind with every heartbeat.

It wasn’t their fault. They were following orders and they were trying to help him. He didn’t need it, but he should at least appreciate the effort.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Immediately he wanted to put his fist through it. But he didn’t. That would be unforgivably rude of him, and also result in him being even more closely monitored that he already was. Lord knows he had the freedom of a 5 year old at this point.

He sighed and forced himself to look back at it instead, confront it.

Well.. he needed to shave. That was easy enough to fix. He had bags under his eyes too, not quite as easy to remedy. Though now at least he had a better idea of how Tina and Queenie seemed to be able to tell he wasn’t sleeping. He was glad there wasn’t some sort of portrait squirreled away in the spare room, reporting on him.

He grimaced.

He was getting paranoid, also not easily fixed. And he should probably at least try to heal the bruises, after all, not much was done about it by Weiss. Weiss had given him a few of them come to think of it.

He sniffed bitterly at the thought of the pathetic little man.

No, Weiss didn’t do anything but make matters worse, he felt.

He’d not only woken to find the man poking and prodding him in places he wasn’t exactly keen on being poked or prodded, he then proceeded to strip him naked, leave him that way and, to top it all off, announce it to all and sundry that he’d been buggered by Gellert Grindelwald and it wasn’t by choice.

Now everyone knew. They had to. News travelled fast through MACUSA. Lord knows he was privy to enough information he had no interest in knowing to know that for a fact. The President and the Goldsteins would have kept their silence, but nobody else in the Med Bay that night was bound to. Everyone would know. The Director of Magical Security had not only been bested by Grindelwald again, but raped by him, and not for the first time.  

That was the main thing making him abide by his ‘medical leave’ order really. An effort to delay the inevitable. He’d only just gone through the process of winning back people’s trust and respect for him too. Now he had to do it all again, with something even more personal.

He sighed heavily and bowed his head, gripping the edges of the porcelain sink.

A knock at the door caught him by surprise, making him jump.

“Mr Graves. Are you alright?” Tina called through the door.

Percival squeezed his eyes shut and counted to 5 in his head in an effort to keep himself calm. She was only trying to do her job.

“Just shaving,” he said once he deemed himself calm enough. “Tina please.”

“Sorry Mr Graves. I’ll leave you be,” Tina replied quickly, retreating again.

“And yet, and yet” Percival sighed, shaking his head before pushing off the sink and drawing in a deep breath.

It was time to stop moping.

Even if nobody seemed to appreciate it, this wasn’t the first time been buggered by Grindelwald. It wasn’t even the worst time.

He shivered at the thought of it, rope biting his wrists and ankles, keeping them strapped together. He still had faint scars from it. The feeling of skin peeling off his knees and cheek as he was fucked across the rough, cement of the floor the whole night long, the smell of it, of cum and sweat and piss. The biting, the beating, the pain-

He shook his head roughly at that, realising he’d started to tremble once again.

He let out a harsh breath through his teeth, glaring over at his reflection in the mirror.

“When did you become so weak?” he uttered, the fight draining from him before too long.

At least this time around he could wash himself properly. It didn’t do half as much as he would have liked of course, but he didn’t have to sit there surrounded by the smell of the other man and what had happened anymore.

With that thought in mind he turned the water on and stepped in. He ended up scrubbing himself practically raw, for all the good it was doing him.

After about half an hour he decided he really couldn’t justify spending more time hidden away in the bathroom and reluctantly shut off the water, dried off, dressed himself in the ill-fitting clothes Tina had found for him somewhere, shaved his face, attempted to comb his hair back properly, before stepping back outside.

“Mr Graves, there you are,” Tina said. “Dinner’s just about ready if you would like to join us.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But I’m not that hungr-”

“You’ve not eaten since yesterday Mr Graves,” Tina said, cutting him off.

“I don’t expect I’ll waste away any time soon,” Graves replied calmly, the irritation sparking in spite of himself as he tried to inch past her.

“Mr Graves,” Tina said stubbornly. “You have to eat.”

He counted to five in his head again, trying his very best to keep very calm, keep it together, they’ll think you’re more unhinged than they already do.

“Very well,” he finally replied. “Thank you. Can I help with anything?”

“Oh no no, we’ve got it all under control. You just rest.”

“I’d really feel more comfortable-”

“We really have it sorted out. Please sit. You’re our guest,” Tina replied, waving him off.

Graves smiled politely, but it was a strained excuse of a smile and fell before too long.

A guest, after all, was someone who was just visiting. A guest could leave at their leisure. He certainly wasn’t a guest. He was a bloody inmate.

He grimaced, lifting a hand in apology when Queenie shot him a quick look, clearly having heard the thought. Though he’d asked her a thousand times to stop going through his head so he didn’t know why he should be feeling guilty about it.

“Here we are,” Tina said, setting down the casserole in the middle of the table with a flick of her wand. “Enjoy.”

Graves nodded, waiting for the women to sit down at the table and serve themselves before filling his own plate.

“This is nice, thank you,” he commented, though it sounded insincere, even to his own ears. It wasn’t really. The food was nice, he just wasn’t in the mood to truly enjoy much right now.

The Goldsteins seemed to forgive him all the same.

“I’m glad you like it,” Tina replied with a smile, a smile that was increasingly reminiscent of the forced smiles of his childhood. The ‘Happy Families’ smiles he’d come to think of them.

He shook his head roughly before turning his attention to the food.

“So, Mr Graves,” Tina said, trailing off for a moment.

Oh no, she was going to attempt conversation again. He had to do something. He had to nip this in the bud righ-

“Do you follow any sports?”

Damn.

He shut his eyes for a moment, wishing for strength before sitting back properly in his seat.

“Not too much,” he said. “Quidditch I suppose, if I had to choose.”

“Really?!”

Did she really have to look so relieved about having something in common with him.

“What team do you support?”

“New York Thunder,” Percival replied with a shrug.

“Ah.”

“And you?”

“Oh, the Fitchburg Finches,” Tina replied with a nod.

“Fine choice,” Percival replied with, arching his brow as he took a bite out of his dinner.

“It’s not just because they’re winning. We’ve supported them since we were kids,” Tina said, a little more firmly than Percival was expecting.

He inclined his head.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you did,” he said. “Apologies.”

“No, sorry. You didn’t do anything,” Tina replied, quickly reverting back to tiptoeing around him.

“Were you born in Massachusetts?” he asked.

Tina shook her head.

“No, here in New York,” she said.

“Then why the Finches?”

“We met them on the way to school once,” Queenie answered for her. “It was second year. I forgot my coat at home and Tina lent me hers, but it was very cold. So we were trying to share the one coat when the Beaters from the Fitchburg Finches came up and gave us both theirs. They were very nice.”

Tina nodded.

“Turns out that was the year they won their first title, so we were quite popular for a while,” she laughed.

Percival smiled a little at that and nodded.

“Well, I suppose as far as reasons to support another town’s team go, that’s a pretty fair one,” he replied.

“And you?” Tina prompted. “Are you from New York?”

Percival hummed, a little uncomfortable now the conversation was turning to him.

“Originally,” he replied, shrugging.

Silence fell and he could tell he was supposed to elaborate further beyond that. He didn’t want to though. He’d always hated talking about his personal life with other people, even as a child. He much preferred letting people just talk about themselves, more often than not that’s all they wanted to do in the first place.

He glanced up in time to spot the uncomfortable look the Goldstein sisters exchanged as the silence dragged on. It seemed that wouldn’t be enough this time.

“My father was an auror as well. We moved around a fair bit,” he said.

The girls seemed a bit surprised by the information, or perhaps that it had been offered at all.

“Oh? What sort of places?” Tina asked.

Graves grimaced. He was afraid that this would happen.

“All abouts,” he said with a shrug. “Mostly along the coasts. Chicago for a year, Texas for a few months, though I was interning that year so I only stayed a couple of weeks for the break before coming to New York.”

“Oh this was after you graduated.”

“No, before my fifth year.”

The sisters blinked.

“You were interning at MACUSA at 14.”

Graves shrugged.

“I wanted a head start,” he said simply.

Right, that was enough. He’d contributed more than his half to this conversation. He was drawing the line here. He was not going to provide anecdotes of him as a 14 year old for other people’s entertainment.

It seemed, for once, the girls got the message and let the conversation drop. He hoped he’d not gone and made it too obvious that it was making him uncomfortable. Merlin’s Beard, this wouldn’t lead to more coddling would it?

“It was nice to see some sunshine today,” Tina commented.

Thank goodness for that. Content to let this conversation be handled without him he turned his attention to his dinner. It was a nice meal, and now he was eating he found that Tina was probably right and he did need the food.

He kept quiet for the rest of the meal, breaking his silence for a moment to insist that he help with the clean up. He wasn’t allowed to, of course. He was supposed to be resting.

Running a hand through his hair he stood awkwardly in the living room, the girls in the kitchen.

He thought that maybe they needed some time amongst themselves as well. He wasn’t the only one being inconvenienced by all of this, after all. They weren’t used to having to having to share their home with a grumpy bastard like him.

He grimaced and glanced out the window. The street seemed clear, nothing but a few wandering No-Maj's, cars, a couple of cats sitting on balconies, a barn owl blinking up at him from a tree. He shook his head before pulling the curtains. Well that was one thing at least. He tested the windows. Locked. Good.

“I think I might turn in early,” he said, catching the attention of the Goldsteins.

“Oh, are you sure?” Tina asked. “We could make some coffee if you like, or turn on the radio?”

“No, I’d just like to get some rest,” Percival replied as politely as he could. “Thank you for dinner.”

“Would you like some cocoa?”

“No, thank you,” he said as he made his way over to the hall. “Have a good night,” he said, before slipping out of the room and into the one he’d been loaned before he could be waited on any more.

He leaned against the door when it clicked shut behind him, tipping his head back against the cheap wood and drawing in a deep breath. Five more days and he could at least go back to work.

Sighing he reluctantly pulled on his pyjama trousers instead, running a hand through his hair before  climbing into the bed, trying to ignore the aches and pains still inflicting themselves on him.

He switched the lights off with a flick of his wand before shutting his eyes and trying to relax.

He stayed that way for about an hour, maybe longer, but he couldn’t relax. He couldn’t get comfortable. He just couldn’t.

Snarling with frustration he tossed and turned, trying different positions on the mattress, but nothing seemed to be working.

With a frustrated growl he sat up sharply, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and dropping his head into his hands. He stayed that way for a moment, feeling the fatigue of the last few days seeping through him.

Eventually, he took the pillow from the bed and dropped it on the floor, grabbing one of the blankets as well before laying down with it. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was closer to what he’d grown used to over the last year and he just didn’t have the energy tonight to try and fight it, to force himself to pretend this wasn’t his new normal.

It felt like another failure.

All the same he shut his eyes and eventually managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day was more of the same.

Do you want coffee? Can i get you food? Do you need any pain potions? Maybe a you should have a laydown. Mr Graves where are you going?

The spare room was quickly becoming the only place he was able to just be left alone for a little bit. Even then, every hour, on the hour, there was a knock on the door checking up on him. In case he’d thrown himself out the window he figured. At this point he just might.

He pressed his forehead against the tops of his knees when there was another knock. He was poised to answer in the calmest possible way he could manage right now that he was _fine_ , but the question didn’t come.

Then it occurred to him, the knock hadn’t been on _his_ door, but the front door set right beside it.

Frowning, he got to his feet, pulling his wand from his belt and edging closer to the door. Years working as an auror made this a silent process.

He heard hushed but furious whispering just outside in the hall. He couldn’t make out a word that was being said but there was a voice he didn’t recognise mingling with the Goldstein sisters’. A man’s voice.

Tina had said that men had been strictly forbidden by her landlord, so whoever man this was, he should absolutely not be here. And yet.

What if it was Grindelwald? No, things were far to calm for it to be that. But it could be a disguise. They already knew the man could trick their wards.

Drawing in a deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nose, he tightened his grip on his wand, counted to three in his head, before pushing open the door and stepping out into the hall, wand raised.

The scene he was met with would have been comical if he wasn’t concerned that his former captor and an international fugitive wasn’t currently breaking into the house.

Even then actually, watching the Goldstein sisters both let out squawks of alarm before attempting to block all view he had of the short, round man standing at the door was quickly combatting his own concern for their safety.

He arched his brow as Queenie held her housecoat across the width of the hall, creating something of a makeshift blind in front of the door, all the while blinking innocently.

Shooting the women a bemused look, he lowered his wand a little, though not entirely, drawling, “Hello?”

“...Hello,” the man uncertainly replied, waving from behind Queenie’s makeshift curtain.

Tina groaned loudly.

“Jacob!” she hissed.

The man, Jacob, gave a shrug when the girls finally gave up the wholly unconvincing attempt to pretend that he wasn’t there.

“It’s not like the man didn’t already see me, you guys,” he said.

Graves hummed his agreement, before turning to the girls, brows raised.

“What are you two up to?”

“Nothing,” the girls said in unison.

“Very convincing.”

“Um, I was just visiting,” Jacob said.

“Clearly,” Percival replied, finally slipping his wand back into his belt before folding his arms over his chest. “Perhaps we should have this conversation away from the stairs. I believe you mentioned something about there being a _no man_ policy in this household,” he suggested.

Tina cursed quietly under her breath before tugging Jacob in, shutting the door behind her, and leading the way into the living room.

“Jacob Kowalski,” the man said as he and Percival trailed after the girls, who were whispering furiously ahead of them. “I’m a friend of the girls. We _sorta_ met before.”

“In a sense,” he replied, before taking the man’s hand. “All the same, Percival Graves. I’m Tina’s boss.”

Jacob blinked.

“Is Tina in trouble?”

“Probably,” Percival said, his lip twitching a little as his subordinate cringed slightly ahead of them.

“Mr Graves,” Tina said, turning to face him, though she didn’t have anything to follow up with.

“This is the No-Maj from the reports?” he deduced.

“Um-”

“What you’ve got to understand is… is…” Tina bowed her head and nodded.  “Yes Sir.”

“I thought you were oblivated,” he said, turning to Jacob, who shrugged.

“That’s when your head gets wiped, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, yeah, I was.”

“But yet here you are.”

“Well… it’s a bit of a tricky thing to forget,” he said with a shrug.

“Mr Graves,” Queenie gasped, stepping in front of Jacob protectively. “He won’t say anything. He won’t. He’s our friend!” she pleaded.

Percival grimaced, looking over the three of them for a moment before sighing and running a hand through his hair.

“Well, be that as it may, Ms Goldstein, the law doesn’t permit No-Maj’s to know about the existence of our world,” he said. “No exceptions.”

The corner of his lips twitched a little as he watched the woman’s jaw set defiantly as she continued standing in front of her friend.

“However,” he said. “I don’t think that will be an issue here.”

The room fell silent, and for once Percival didn’t mind too much.

“After all,” he said. “Mr Kowalski here is a squib. Obviously.”

Tina and Queenie both blinked.

“He’s a… a squib?” Tina repeated, clearly torn between worrying that he’d actually gone and lost his mind, and debating whether to let it be to protect their friend.

Percival nodded.

“Of course he is. I can sense it a mile off,” he said. “A No-Maj could _never_ shake off a mind charm after all. That screams latent magical ability. And Kowalski? That’s a polish name, isn’t it?”

Jacob looked at him for a moment, before nodding slowly.

“Did you parents immigrate?”

Jacob’s brow rose a little, before glancing over to Tina and Queenie, who both nodded quickly. He turned back to Percival and nodded himself.

“Ah, well that’s a shame. The Ministry over there is in a bit of a shambles. It would be a bit of a pain to track down the relevant documents. But I’m sure I can find someone who knows someone who can contest there are a Kowalski wizarding family or two in Poland and they may or may not have had a squib son named Jacob, though of course they’re not too keen to make a big deal about it.”

He shrugged.

“So, it’s all a bit of a non-issue I would say,” he said, before turning to to the group as a whole. “Coffee?”

All three stared at him silently before eventually nodding.

He nodded back and set off to the kitchen to make just that, finding himself feeling a good deal better than he had before leaving his room. It had been a while since he’d had to opportunity to fix a situation for someone, after all. It felt nice to get back into the swing of it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo sorry for taking so long to update this story. I both had a big week at work (turns out December is a busy month for animators :P) and wasn't entirely sure how to handle this particular chapter. I've got a bit of a solid plan now so hopefully the next chapters will be up much sooner. Hope you all enjoy guys and as always, thank you so much for your lovely comments. It really does make my day so much when I read them

Tina didn’t think that Mr Graves was alright to go back to work. To be honest, she wasn’t convinced that he’d be alright to go back any time in the foreseeable future, and she was starting to notice that he’d probably not been alright to be back on duty in the first place.

Just seeing it all day in, day out was bringing that much home. 

He didn’t sleep for one. She’d walked in on him dozing, certainly, but it wasn’t a proper sleep. And the only times she’d found him actually knocked out, so much so he didn’t wake up when she opened the door to check he hadn’t run off, he’d been on the floor with nothing but a pillow and sheet with him. 

She grimaced as she recalled the small, dank room they’d found him in a few months ago. She hadn’t noticed at the time, but she recalled now that there hadn’t been a bed of any description. The fact that he couldn’t seem to properly rest in conditions that weren’t reminiscent of his prison was definitely worrying, she thought.

The reluctance to be touched and general irritability she could chalk up to what happened the other day. Nobody expected him to bounce back from that within the week after all. Though it did still hurt her heart a little when the man she’d spent years shadowing and looking up to, shied away from even her touch. Out of instinct too. 

The nightmares were a bit worrying as well, though again, not that unexpected, even with all the Grindelwald business aside. Mr Graves was an auror after all, had been for a fairly long time, he’d seen enough things to give anybody bad dreams. 

All the same, when President sent word that she would be arranging a time to meet with Mr Graves about resuming his duties, Tina found herself more nervous for him than pleased. She wasn’t at all sure it was what was best for the man right now, though she didn’t dare voice those opinions.

It didn’t help that at the same time as worrying about him going back to work, she  _ knew _ that being confined to rest and recuperation was not helping him in the slightest either. 

She had absolutely no idea what to do. One second the man was acting normal, and she’d find herself slipping into the old motions of being around her boss, and then he’d do something and she’d remember. She’d remember finding him trembling, half naked on the floor of his own home, she’d remember him pleading ‘not again’ as they’d pinned him down in the Med Bay (she still felt terrible about that), she remembered the tears that had slipped from his eyes when the drowsiness draught had taken effect and weakened his body before it soothed his mind. She’d remember all of it and realise that things weren’t the same, they likely never would be again. 

But what was the answer?

He wasn’t going to retire. The man was all about duty. The only way he’d leave his post was in a box. 

Tina just feared that going back the way he was right now could very well lead to that outcome.

Even Jacob, who’d only met the man a couple of times, was picking up on it. 

“He’s getting worse,” he commented as he creamed butter in one of their bowls. 

Down the hall they could hear Mr Graves pacing the width of the spare bedroom a couple more times, before letting out a frustrated sigh and, by the sounds of it, flopping onto the bed. 

She shook her head. 

“I know,” she said. “But I have orders to keep him here and guard him whilst he’s recovering.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jacob replied. “I just don’t think resting is really helping this guy.”

“He was tortured, Jacob,” Tina replied. “A couple of days ago. Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not done damage. He needs to rest. Whether he likes it or not.”

“I get that. It’s just-” There was a dull thunk in the spare room, followed by a series of other thuds, then by a quiet groan. “I just think you need to take your boss for a walk or something.”

Tina arched her brow as Queenie walked into the room. 

“Is he alright?”

“Think so,” she said. “He tried one too many books. 

Tina shot Jacob a smug look. 

“See, he’s reading. That will give him something to do.”

“Ah, no,” Queenie said, shaking her head. “He was sort of… it’s a bit like a cross between juggling and a slow tornado.”

Tina frowned a little at that and got up, walking down the hall with Jacob and Queenie in tow and peeking into her boss' room. Sure enough he was laying on the ground again, about 10 books floating in the air above him, spinning around in a slow circle as another joined their number. 

“Mr Graves?”

The books stopped moving, a couple of them dipping dangerously close to the ground before floating back up. 

“Are you bored?” she asked. 

Graves arched his brow a little. 

“Is it obvious?”

“Well… you’re juggling books.”

Graves hummed, bringing the books together to form a neat stack in the air before setting them down in the corner of the room and sitting up. 

“Can I go back to work yet?”

“The President said at least a week sir.”

“It’s been over a week, surely.”

“It’s been 5 days.”

The books rather grumpily reshuffled themselves in the corner of the room. 

“Is there anything that can be done here?” he asked. “Is there a cat stuck up a tree?”

Tina arched her brow a little at that. 

“Are you serious?”

“Half,” Graves grumbled, laying back down. 

Tina rolled her eyes as Jacob and Queenie headed back into the kitchen. “Sir, the President said that she would arrange a meeting with you as soon as she was free to. You’ll be back in your office in no time,” she said. 

She sighed when she spotted the man pulling a face at her attempt to encourage him. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked. 

Graves ran a hand through his hair a couple of times, before scrubbing roughly at his face and shaking his head. 

“No,” he replied, heaving a deep sigh before pushing himself upright once more. “I apologise. I’ve been a poor person to have around recently.”

“Oh, no Mr Graves. We understand,” she said, either widening sympathetically. “I mean, after everything that happened the other day-”

“It’s not that,” Graves grit out, looking a bit annoyed by the comment. 

Tina grimaced and nodded. 

“Okay,” she said, before adding nervously a moment later. “Sir, nobody expects you to be fine just like that.”

She bit her lip when she spotted a dark look flashing across the other man’s face, though he seemed to stamp it down soon enough. How she sometimes wished for Queenie’s ability to see past a person’s mask. 

Graves drew in a deep breath before replying in what seemed a calm voice, “I apologise,  _ again. _ ”

“It’s alright,” Tina replied, biting her lip. “Sir...” she said, trailing offer as she started to lose her nerve. 

The dryly bemused look Graves shot her didn’t exactly encourage her to become more forthcoming either. 

“It’s just,” she uttered, before deciding to just dive in. “Sir, do you think that you should return to duty yet?” 

She winced when and angry expression flashed across the man’s chest, though she noticed that it didn’t actually seem to be directed at her, not completely at least.

“There’s only one way to find out,” he eventually replied. 

“Sir, you could take more time-”

“Funnily enough, being locked away in a room probably isn’t going to help me recover from being locked away in a room for a year, Tina,” Graves replied, clearly striving for calm but the frustration and, it sounded, fear he must be feeling was starting to leak into his voice. 

“I… I know sir. I meant, with what happened the other day though...”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Mr Grave, you can’t just ignore it.”

“Who are you to decide?” Graves replied sharply, pushing himself to his feet and folding his arms over his chest. 

Tina winced but she didn’t back down. 

“It’s just not healthy to bury it all.”

“Well rest assured, I’m not. I’m coping with the other night the same I have every other trespass upon my person that man has made. I just need to be permitted to get on with my life and move past it, but I can’t do that because people are insisting that I wallow in despair for an appropriate amount of time for  _ them  _ to feel assured enough I’ve gone through all of the motions.”

“That’s not it,” Tina argued. 

“Isn’t it?” Graves snapped back. “Because the way I see it, I was handling it all just fine before.”

“Were you?” Tina shot back, arching her brow. “Or were you just hiding it better?”

Graves’ nostrils flared as he let out a deep breath slowly, clearly trying  _ very _ hard to keep his cool. 

“Ms Goldstein, you are overstepping your bounds.”

Tina quite agreed. 

She grimaced and glanced away to the window, wringing her hands behind her back. She didn’t regret saying what she had, it was good to get it off her chest, but it didn’t seem to have lead anywhere. When she’d decided to just say it, she’d sort of hoped that it would end up with matters resolving themselves throughout the conversation, like they sometimes did whenever she and Queenie argued. It didn’t seem to be shaping up that way though. 

She cringed a little when the man stepped forward, resting his hand on her shoulder. 

“Goldstein, look at me,” he said calmly, quirking a brow when she eventually did. 

“I’m not burying it. Believe me, if anyone is aware of what’s happened, both recently and over the past year, it’s me. But I’ll get through it,” he said. “Remember what I told you, after your first proper bust.”

Tina bit her lip and nodded. 

“We have a difficult job,” she uttered. “We see things people shouldn’t, and we see it often. We’ve just got to learn to adapt to it.”

Graves nodded. 

“This is… it’s not great,” he said, grimacing as he thought it all over himself. “But it’s happened. And no amount of wishing or pretending is going to undo it or make it any better. All there is left to do is adapt and move past it. I’ve had practice,” he said, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. “I appreciate the concern but I’ll be fine.” He grimaced. “Physically, I expect you were right, I probably did need the time to recover. But for everything else, I just need to be allowed to get it all back together and the only way I know how to do that is to adapt to the new normal.”

Tina worried her lip a little between her teeth, before eventually nodding. 

She sighed. 

“I just wish there was something I could do,” she uttered.

Graves hummed, giving her shoulder another quick squeeze before letting his hand drop. 

“I appreciate that but like I said, wishing serves no purpose. It’s best not to waste energy on it,” he said, before drawing in a deep breath and saying, “Now, is there  _ anything _ that I can help with around her. At all.”

Tina rubbed the back of her neck. The conversation was over it seemed, and she found that she did feel a tiny bit better for it, though not by much. How it had turned around to him comforting her though, she wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Tina,” Graves prompted. 

“Well… Queenie and Jacob are baking the No-Maj way,” she said. “So… if you want to, do the dishes I suppose-”

“Right. I’ll do them.”

“Seriously?”

“Absolutely. Let’s go,” he said, before setting of down the hall. Tina trailing skeptically behind him. 

This week had been full of things she’d not expected to ever witness. A lot of them hadn’t been particularly pleasant things. But the Director of Magical Security with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, arms deep in soapy dish water earnestly washing her sister’s dishes had to be one of the better ones.

 

* * *

 

 

Percival was quite convinced that he’d found himself stuck in a timeloop. Or at the very least in a rift where time seemed to move at least half its normal rate. Every minute seemed to drag.

He needed to get out. He needed to breathe fresh air. He needed to get back to his office and find something,  _ anything,  _ to occupy his mind with, because right now the mind-numbingness of domesticity was killing him. 

He flinched sharply when a loud crash came from the living room. Just managing to duck out of the way of the ball he’d been tossing into the air, he jumped back to his feet, grabbed his wand and quickly made his way to the living room to check what was going on.

He wasn’t sure whether he was more relieved or bemused when he found Tina on the floor, attempting to untangle herself from a stray coat, a slightly charred but official looking note clutched in her hand all the while. 

“What’s the matter?” he drawled, slipping his wand back into its hold before offering her a hand up. 

“The President is coming,” she gasped, eyes wide with, well, horror was the only word that was coming to mind. “Here. To my house. Any minute now!”

“Yes,” Percival said slowly, a confused frown creasing his brows. 

“Mr Graves, the President is coming to my living room!” Tina cried. 

Percival hummed, nodding knowingly as he put the pieces together in his head.

“Ah, this is your first time?”

Tina let out an exasperated huff. 

“How many times does the President invite herself over to people’s houses?”

“It really depends on the situation,” Percival replied with a shrug, before patting the young aurors back. “Deep breaths. It’ll be alright.”

“We’ve run out of coffee.”

“She won’t want coffee,” Percival said, trying his very best to keep a straight face. He didn’t want Tina to feeling belittled for her panic. He’d almost forgotten the thrill of terror that used to hit him the first few times Picquery’s predecessor had invited himself through his fireplace. “Just imagine it like any other meeting,” he said. 

“That’s not going to help,” Tina muttered bitterly as green flames sprung up in her fireplace. “I’ve always done terribly in official meetings.”

Percival shot her a quick, amused smile before school his features into something a little more professional, standing a little straighter and squaring his shoulders as the President and her personal guards stepped into the cramped living room. The corner of his lips twitched when he spotted Tina doing the same beside him. 

Picquery nodded firmly to them both, taking a brief moment to brush away the ash typical of floo transportation.

“Good evening Ms Goldstein, Mr Graves. Thank you for having us,” she said as she stepped away from the fireplace, her guards remaining there.

Tina blinked a couple of times before nervously replying, “It’s my pleasure, Madam President.”

The woman arched her brow a little at that, turning to Percival who returned the gesture before nodding to files in her hand. 

“Have their been any developments?” he asked, deciding to move the conversation on for all of their sakes. 

“Not nearly as much as I’d hoped,” Picquery replied, shaking her head. “We’ve had the best warlocks checking over the wards that were on your house. They pass their regards by the way, I take it they were pretty impressed.”

Percival inclined his head.

“They were all in order?”

“According to the experts, there should have been no way for Grindelwald to bypass them,” he said. “There are charms that could be put in place to prevent him  _ specifically  _ from entering a premises, but it requires components that we don’t have out our disposal while he’s on the run.”

Percival hummed, a little relieved to hear that there hadn’t been an oversight made on his part. That would be the final humiliation, if all of this had occurred because he’d cast substandard wards on his home.  

“Well it’s beside the point regardless,” he said. “Piling on more wards upon the usual ones is just adding pressure to the wound. To properly work on healing it, we need to figure out how he got past the initial ones.”

Picquery nodded. 

“I agree,” she replied. “The warlocks have a few theories, but none seem to hold too much water. At the moment the running assumption is  _ he’s just that powerful _ .”

Percival wrinkled his nose.

“Surely we can do better than that.”

“Indeed,” Picquery replied as the line of conversation petered off. 

“Have the aurors that were standing guard that night been found?” he eventually asked, after the silence got far too uncomfortable. 

“No,” Picquery replied bluntly. “They’ve not turned up in any form.

He grimaced and nodded sharply, before lifting his head and meeting her eye. 

“Madam President,” he said. “I would like to return to my duties and take part in the investigation. I’m certain I can clear any physical exam required of me.”

“And what about other injuries?” Picquery replied calmly, though there was a firmness behind her words that Percival quietly resented. There was a time he had been her most useful resource, her right hand, now he was someone she had to be mindful of, firm with.

“Other injuries?” he asked, brow twitching with irritation.

“Graves, you can’t expect me to believe that you’ve not been affected by this on an emotional level.”

“That won’t impact on my ability to fulfil my duties,” he said evenly. 

“Nonetheless Mr Graves-”

“Madam President, with respect, but I’m as well  _ mentally _ as I’m going to get at this point. The only thing left to do is just move on with things, and I assure you, putting a mass murdering psychopath like Grindelwald behind bars where he belongs will be  _ immensely _ therapeutic. In the meantime, I would settle for just locating my aurors and bringing them home,” he said.

Picquery’s lips thinned a little as she looked over the man, before turning to Tina. 

“Ms Goldstein. What’s your opinion on this?” she asked. 

Percival grit his teeth a little at that and fixed his gaze on a small stain on the wall. Going over his head was one thing, but he did not appreciate having the matter of his mental health being opened up to the floor for commentary.. 

Tina blinked, clearly taken aback herself. Percival spotted her glancing over to him out of the corner of his eye, but he kept them fixed on the wall all the same.

“M-my opinion?” she asked. 

“Yes, Ms Goldstein. You’ve been overseeing Mr Graves’ recovery for the past week have you not?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Tina replied uncomfortable. “I agree with Mr Graves, Ma’am,” she eventually replied. “Physically he seems to be more or less recovered. And… with respect ma’am, I think if this week's proven anything to me, it’s that some people recover well with bedrest, and some people find it counterproductive, and Mr Graves is definitely one of the latter sort of people.”

Percival’s lips twitched a little as Picquery arched her brow skeptically. 

The woman paused for a moment longer, before humming an acknowledgement. 

“Very well,” she said. “Thank you for your input Ms Goldstein. Is there a place that Mr Graves and I can discuss this matter privately?”

Tina blinked, before nodding.

“Of course,” she replied. “You can use the spare room I guess. It’s this way.”

Graves stepped out of the woman’s way before reluctantly trailing after her, the president following him in turn. 

“Here we are Ma’am,” Tina said, waiting for them to join her before opening the door to the room… and letting out a startled cry at what she found waiting in there, or rather, on the fire escape immediately outside it. 

Percival’s eyes widened as they locked with the mismatched blues of Gellert Grindelwald’s. The man was crouched on the metal grating, an amused grin twisted across his pale face for a moment as he stared through the window, before letting out a bark of laughter and taking off up the ladder. 

Percival blinked before turning to look at Tina, then Picquery, checking that they too had seen him, that he hadn’t been another figment of his imagination. 

Tina seemed to pick up on the unspoken question, and nodded firmly as she drew her wand. 

“I saw him,” she said. 

Percival grit his teeth and nodded back, pulling his wand from his belt as well before dashing over to the window, wrenching it open and giving chase, Tina and Picquery right behind him. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, writing magic duels is a bit trickier than I was expecting to be honest XD Sorry this one took so long to get up guys, hopefully the next chapter will be up again soon. I'll be going on holidays for a week on Thursday, so hopefully the chapters will start coming faster soon :) 
> 
> Thanks for being so patient with me and as always I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far!!
> 
> Also just another big thank you to everyone who's commented so far. I really do appreciate each and every one of them, it lightens up my day in a huge way.

They rushed through the window and onto the fire exit Grindelwald had been standing on a moment earlier. They couldn’t have been out in the open for more than a second before spells streamed down upon them, some slipping through the metal grating of the platforms above, others ricocheting off and sending bits of stone from the buildings flying. They were going to have to do some serious cover-up work after this, if they survived that long. 

_ ‘Protego! _ ” Graves snapped, blocking enough of the spells for the three of them to duck back into the cover of the spare bedroom. 

As soon as they were out of sight, the thudding of Grindelwald's boots echoed from outside. He was getting away. 

“Apparition’s out of the question?” Percival asked. 

“With the wards up, yes,” Tina answered. 

“Is there another way up?” Picquery asked as her guards ran into the room. 

“Yes but it takes longer. We’ll lose him.”

“No we won’t,” Percival said. “I’ll go after him this way and try and slow him down, it will be easier to fend him off when it’s just the one person. You go the other way and cut him off.”

“But sir-”

“Go, now!” Graves barked, before pulling his wand and, drawing in a deep breath, ducking out of the window once again and sprinting up the steps of the fire escape. There were four levels between the bedroom window and the rooftop. Grindelwald had already tackled two of them. 

He managed to get off a few stunning spells of his own before the torrent of curses came raining back down on him.. 

“I didn’t know you were so eager, Percival!” Grindelwald called from above. 

“You’re the one sitting outside my bedroom window!” Percival retorted as he took to the stairs of the next level. 3 more platforms to go. 

Grindelwald laughed a little at that, sounding all the world like they were talking whilst tossing a quaffle between themselves. 

“I thought I made my interest in you quite clear the other night,” he drawled, pausing a moment to shoot the other man a smirk, or perhaps try and catch a glimpse of any reaction Percival may have had to the reminder (pointless really, did he honestly think it was something he needed reminding of? Like he’d forgotten what had happened.). 

Grindelwald smirked a little wider. 

“Was it not enough? Was I too gentle with you-”

And almost feral sense of pleasure flushed through Percival as, with a slash of his wand, a stunning spell of his managed to catch the other man by surprise. He’d managed to summon a shielding charm quick enough to stop the worst of it, but it had definitely wiped the smirk from his face. 

“Cheeky,” Grindelwald uttered, though there was a cold fury bubbling up behind his words, just as Graves had suspected. 

He’d come to notice that over his time held captive by the man. His temper. Grindelwald was a genius, there was no denying that, but Percival had noticed that, if he was properly provoked enough, he could be lead to lose sight of his goals for a moment a moment or two.

Indeed, just that was happening that moment. So incensed he was by being hit by Percival’s spell, the man had stopped on the last platform, a mere four yards from the rooftop he’d been racing to, to launch an assault down upon his assailant. 

It was only when Percival mounted the last set of stairs to the final platform that he seemed to notice how much he’d allowed the other man’s to gang on him. 

With a furious snarl he slashed his wand savagely through the air, the spell that Percival just managed to block in time sending him staggering back into the railing. While he was distracted regaining his footing, Grindelwald leaped onto the ladder that ran up the last stretch of the wall, and deftly climbed his way up. 

Percival cursed softly as he ran up to the last platform himself. It was alright. He couldn't apparate from here and the others would come soon. 

He was just about to mount the ladder himself when Grindelwald reappeared, stepping up on the edge of the rooftop, directly above it, his wand pointed straight down at the other man, forcing him to back up hastily.

“Be careful, Percival,” he said coldly. “I’ve grown fond of you, but I’ve told you before, you serve no purpose to me. I may have to kill you tonight.”

“I don’t plan on making it easy for you,” Percival retorted, lifting his wand as well. 

The other man scoffed, though to Percival’s ears, it sounded more like a sneer. 

“Do you truly believe you’re capable of making it anything but?” he asked, lifting his free hand up also. 

Percival grit his teeth, shooting of a flurry of spells at the man, trying to get him away from the ladder for a moment so he could climb it and they could be on level ground at the very least. 

It didn’t do all that much good. Grindelwald deflected all of it with barely a bat of the eye. It was maddening. When had he gotten this weak?! For pity sake he could feel his legs shaking beneath him. 

But wait. It wasn’t his legs that were shaking, it was the platform itself. Soon it started to clatter noisily against the stone of the wall, the battles rattling and breaking free. 

Percival’s eyes widened, his head snapping back to find a triumphant Grindelwald smirking down at him as the metal began to creak beneath his feet. He had to climb. He’d be putting himself in a terrible position, but he had no choice. He had to climb. 

Wand clutched tight in his hand, he took a running leap at the ladder, grabbing onto it and climbing as fast as he could. A second later, the bottom half of it was tore away from the wall and snapped beneath him, leaving him clinging desperately to the rung that he’d been holding at the time, as the platform he’d just been standing on folded in on itself with an almighty clap, like a giant mousetrap. If he’d hesitated a second longer, there was no doubt in his mind he’d have been crushed within it. 

He looked up at Grindelwald as he pulled himself up, wrapping his arm over the top of the rung, his boots scraping against the stone wall trying to find some sort of purchase. 

A jet of red soared past him, missing him by mere inches. 

He tried to raise his wand to shoot back, but found himself slipping further down, and he knew that if he slipped too far, he wouldn’t be able to pull himself back up again. It took more than a couple of months to recover from a year of confinement. He was not in the shape he used to be. He was entirely defenseless. 

And Grindelwald seemed to know it too. 

The man stopped firing spells down on him, choosing instead to crouch on the edge of the roof, looking down at him. 

“It’s been awhile since I’ve had you between my legs,” he chuckled. 

Percival was seriously reconsidering trying to lift his wand arm again. 

“You’re not going to escape justice for your crimes, Grindelwald,” Graves snarled back, glaring up at him. 

Grindelwald let out a bark of laughter. 

“Are you really in the position to be spouting promises of justice?” he asked, arching his brow pointedly. “I don’t even ask that as the target of that comment, but on behalf of  _ justice _ , an ideal I do in fact hold quite dear. Do you not think you’re doing her a disservice?”

Graves snarled. 

“Someone is going to stop you,” he hissed back. 

Grindelwald rolled his eyes. 

“Oh not this again,’ he sighed. “Give you a little fresh air and you’re back to square one again. I much preferred you when you were weeping.”

Percival’s boot slipped against the wall. For a second he thought he may actually fall. Jumping wouldn’t be so bad, he could stop himself from hitting the ground, but he wouldn’t have the time to stop himself from falling into the heap of sharp, twisted metal beneath him. And if he fell, he’d lose him before the others arrived. 

With all his might he heaved himself back up, wrapping both of his arms over the top of the ladder rung. 

Grindelwald smirked, tapping the tip of his wand against his bottom lip. 

“What shall I do with you?” he hummed. “I could take you now,” he commented. “Keep you around again. It won’t serve any good, but it’s always nice to have a distraction.”

“ _ Stupefy! _ ”

A jet of red light shot from the end of his wand, which he’d tilted up in the direction of the other man, but it wasn’t enough, it still shot off course. Grindelwald seemed to find this quite amusing. 

“Such a handful,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You need a bit of disciplining again it seemed,” he carried on, lifting his wand again, the tip began to crack with blue-white light, like electricity. 

Percival recognised the spell. 

He couldn’t fall. He wouldn’t be able to jump far enough to clear the remains of the platform beneath. He couldn’t climb. His only option, it seemed, was to try and block it, and when that failed, endure.

As the electricity surged through the metal of the ladder and coursed through his body in spite of the shielding charm he attempted to conjure with a weak flick of his wrist, Percival found that all he could do was hold on for dear life. He just needed to endure a little longer. The others couldn’t be far. They’d come. They’d distract Grindelwald. They’d make him stop this. They’d help him.

Grindelwald hummed above him as the spell was lifted. 

“That’s an awful lot of faith to put in your  _ friends _ , isn’t it?” he commented idly. 

Percival felt like he’d been dosed suddenly in cold water. The man had penetrated his mind. He’d given away the others’ element of surprise.

Grindelwald tutted as he got to his feet. 

“How embarrassing for you,” he drawled. “Well, Percival, it was briefer than I’d hoped it would be. But I think I may just take my leave now.”

Percival’s eyes widened as he took a step back onto the rooftop, slipping out of sight. They were losing him! Where were the others?! He had to move! Now!

Squeezing his eyes shut with the effort, the soles of his boots scraping desperately against the edge of the building, he dragged himself up slowly, agonisingly onto the next rung. Panting with exertion he looked down. One more and he would be able to get a foothold and it would just be a climb. He could hear the other man laughing above. He had to do this. 

Arms shaking with the strain he reached up and grabbed onto the next rung. He swore his arms were about to give out of him. They were shaking, his hands were slipping, all of the strength in his body had been sapped from him by both the electrical shocking he’d just received and the chase itself. 

When had he gotten this weak?!!

“I’ll be seeing you soon, Graves,” Grindelwald called from above. 

Growling with frustration, Percival put all the energy he had left into the climb, until finally he was able to get a foothold of the last rung, then things got considerably easier. Right up until he reached the top. 

He was expecting the streak of green light when it came, and managed to duck in time before blindly shooting a few stunning spells over the edge of the roof in an effort to provide some cover. But it didn’t seem to be working. When he went to jump over again another volley of spells was shot right at him by the waiting Grindelwald. 

“Percival, you’re beginning to annoy me,” he warned. 

“Then face me like a man and we can settle this once and for all,” Percival bellowed back.

“We’ve already done that,” Grindelwald replied calmly. “You lost.”

“I won’t this time.”

The man was laughing and… and walking closer. Percival was filled with both relief and dread. Where were the others?

He looked up as Grindelwald came to stand back above him, their wands trained on each other’s faces. 

“Have you any idea how pathetic you look?” Grindelwald sneered. “Pride of the MACUSA, the president’s right hand man,” he tutted, smirking down at the man who was currently forced to kneel at his feet. “Heaven help you all Director-”

The man whirled around, letting out a furious snarl at something Percival couldn’t see before leaping back onto the roof. 

“Finally,” Percival uttered, pressing his forehead against the stone of the wall for a second, drawing in a deep breath and trying to will his body to stop trembling before heaving himself up and over the edge of the roof to join the fray. 

Tina was by his side in an instant as the they attempted to go around Grindelwald and attack him from behind as he was occupied by Picquery and her guards. 

“Are you alright, Mr Graves?” Tina asked, keeping her eyes trained on the dark wizard. “We heard a huge crash.”

Percival shook his head. 

“I’m fine. I managed to get out of the way in time,” he said, leaving out the whole  _ electrocution _ part. 

Tina nodded before the both of them stepped forward, shooting off spells and summoning shields in turn, years working together on the field helping them both slip into a steady rhythm. It was at times like this Graves couldn’t help but wonder how nobody had picked up on him being replaced. He’d worked with these people for years, fought with them, bled with them, how could they have not noticed?

A jet of red light streaked across the roof at him. He managed to bring up a charm in time to block most of it but it did still feel like getting hit in the face with a quaffle. 

He shook his head roughly. He couldn’t get lost in thought during a bloody duel for pity sake!

Picquery caught his eye for a moment, before a powerful spell from grindelwald flew at her and her guards, the power of it hitting their shields knocking all three to the ground. 

“Tina, with me,” he said, before the two of them stepped forward and engaged Grindelwald head on. 

Percival tried to clear his mind. Focus on the here and now. Focus on his surroundings. 

Grindelwald smirked at him. 

“Still so fiery,” he chuckled, before swinging the arm that wasn’t holding his wand, like he was underarm tossing a ball. The spell gouged a sharp path into the concrete of the rooftop, heading straight towards them. Tina and Percival only just managed to jump out of the way in time. 

The concrete and the wire mesh that had been ripped up during the process began to rise from the ground all the while, each piece turning to point at the two of them before, with a slash of his wand, Grindelwald sent them shooting forwards. 

Halting his attempts to land a stunning spell on the other man, Percival lifted both his hands, drawing in a deep breath before stepping back and, rather than attempting to block them, took control of the wave of shrapnel  and brought it around him and Tina before sending it straight back at Grindelwald. The other man smirked before lifting his wand before him and transfiguring it  all to a mere gust of dust. 

As Tina shot stunning spells into the slowly settling cloud of dust, Percival pointed his wand over to the electrical cables tethered to the side of the building. A moment later, the two, black, thick live wires shook themselves free from their tether, rearing up like spitting cobras. With a swish of his wand, Percival sent them flying at Grindelwald, who just managed to dive and roll out of the way. 

He smirked over at Percival. 

“Not bad,” he scoffed, but to Percival could hear the cold fury behind his words. He’d angered the man it seemed.  _ Good _ . 

Tina stepped forward and carried on shooting off spells at the man, Picquery and her guards doing the same from behind him. For the first time that night, they finally had the other man on the backfoot, and the longer they managed to hold on to the advantage, the angrier he seemed to be getting. 

Percival send his wire snakes after him once again, attempting to bind him in place long enough for the others to land a spell on him. But with a savage slash of his wand the wires were slice in three parts each and went flying in all directions off the roof. 

Grindelwald snarled furiously over at him, before stalking forward, wand raised and spells firing. 

In spite of his (and Tina’s, who was still sticking to his side) best efforts, he fond himself being back up towards Picquery and her guards at the edge of the roof, only just managing to block the spells that were being hurled at him, ducking out of the way of the ones that his shielding spells couldn’t stop. 

He was just forming a new plan in his mind when the ground began to tremble again beneath him. He had about a second to cast a guess as to what the man was doing to cause that, when a bright, white mist shot forward from the other man’s wand, hitting all five of them like a tidal wave. In spite of all of their attempts to shield themselves from the damage, they were sent flying off the edge of the roof and down to the ground below. 

Fortunately, the shielding charm seemed to have been enough to keep them from being knocked unconscious, which gave Percival time to work with. It takes a person or average build 2 seconds to fall 6 stories, and in that two seconds Percival was able to twist himself around and, with a wide sweep of his wand, slow down the momentum of the five of them before they hit the unforgiving ground beneath. 

They all let out quiet groans of some manner when the spell lifted a second later, sending them flopping the final foot to the ground unassisted. 

Drawing in a quick breath Percival pushed himself back up to his feet first and took off out of the alley, tearing across the road to the nearest gap between the building he could find. The second he had cover he apparated over to the rooftop of the building that neighboured Tina’s, which shouldn’t have been protected by its wards. Fortunately his gamble paid off when his boots came down crunching on the gravel that covered it. 

He could see Grindelwald strolling over to the edge the roof across from him. The man actually looked a bit surprised to see him, though it didn’t last for long. 

He couldn’t let him get away again. 

Taking a couple of steps back, Percival slipped his wand into its hold on his belt, drew in a deep breath before sprinting across the length of the roof as fast as he could. 

He sidestepped the flash of green that Grindelwald shot at him without losing too much speed, before stepping up onto the lip of the roof and leaping across the gap between the two buildings. 

But just as his boots touched down on the very edge of Tina’s building, Grindelwald, shooting a grin over his shoulder, leapt off the opposite wall. 

Percival dashed across to where he’d been standing, but when he looked over the edge of the roof again, there was no sign of the man. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for all of your patience. I'm so glad that you're all liking the story so far.  
> That said, wow, thank you so much for all of your absolutely incredible comments. I honestly can't put into words how incredible it feels to look in your inbox and have you all sharing your thoughts and feelings about the story. 
> 
> All I can say is that it really makes my day. I know that it sounds like a cliche but I honestly mean it, you're all INCREDIBLE!
> 
> So I hope that you all enjoy this chapter. And to everyone who's celebrating right now, Happy Holidays! :)

Percival was starting to get a bit fed up with all of this, to be perfectly honest. 

“Can you tell me your name?” one of his aurors, a  _ junior _ auror, asked him. He was sitting on the other side of the interrogation table as Percival slouched moodily on the wrong side of it. This wouldn’t be happening if they’d caught Grindelwald. If he’d been faster, stronger, this night would have gone a completely different direction. 

“Your name please,” the auror, Simpson, prompted, fiddling with his wand nervously.

“He’d know that,” Percival sniffed. 

“Graves,” Picquery said, reprimanding him from where she was sitting by the door, a guard by her side, a warlock sitting on the other, observing the interview, ready to give the final opinion on whether he, Percival, was who he said he was, or whether it was best he spent the night in a cell until they could be sure. 

It was hard not to be a bit resentful. 

He heaved a deep sigh, propping his head up on his knuckles before answering. 

“Percival Gondulphus Graves.”

“Your age?” Simpson asked.

“39.”

“Your role in Congress?”

“Your boss,” Percival drawled, arching his brow pointedly. 

He heaved a deep sigh when the poor boy on the other side of the desk cringed in response. This wasn’t his fault, he shouldn’t take it out on the kid. 

“My name’s Percival Gondulphus Graves,” he said as calmly as he could. “I’m 39 Years old. Born in New York City on March 2, 1888. I attended Ilvermorny School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. House Wampus, though when being sorted I had the choice of Thunderbird as well. I’ve known President Picquery since we were 13 and she attempted to brain me with a beater’s bat in spite of me not being a bludger and her not being a beater. The last thing I said to you specifically, Simpson, is that you need to stop leaving your reports to the last minute, as you skipped an entire page that would have seen a potion smuggler let off on technicalities if it hadn’t been caught. Also that I had a headache, which is coming back now.”

He grit his teeth a little before adding, perhaps a little pettily, “Also you’ve had a haircut over the past week, which is a piece of information I’m sure wouldn’t be at the top of Grindelwald’s list to claw from my mind in the three minutes I was out of sight with him before his latest disappearance. But, I could be wrong.”

The auror behind the desk shifted uncomfortably for a moment, before glancing over his shoulder to Madam Picquery and uttering, “I think it’s him Ma’am.”

“I concur,” the Warlock beside her rasped, nodding. 

“As do I,” Picquery replied as she got to her feet. “Thank you for your time tonight gentlemen. Mr Simpson, please go home, you can finish your report in the morning I’m sure. Mr Dulaine, Ms Wallis, I’d like a moment alone with Mr Graves, thank you.”

Percival didn’t turn around, but listened as chairs scraped and boots shuffled, before finally the door swung shut and the room was empty but for him and the president. 

He arched his brow as Picquery walked around to the other side of the table and sat down, handing his wand back without a word. 

“So I’m me, am I?” he said as he took it. 

“Don’t be like that, Percival,” Picquery replied. “It’s procedure.”

“For me, certainly,” Graves sniffed, before heaving a deep sigh and raising his hand before she could reply. He was being childish. They both knew it. 

“Well at least I didn’t end up getting chained to a bed this time,” he muttered. 

“That is unlikely to reoccur,” Picquery commented.  “Healer Weiss has been relocated to a satellite outpost,” 

The corner of Percival’s lips twitched slightly at that as he nodded. 

“Good to know,” he muttered, before rubbing tiredly at his face. His whole body ached from the chase, and likely from the whole electrocution incident. But that didn’t hurt half as much as his pride right this moment. The disappointment of having Grindelwald slipping through their fingers once again was a bitter one indeed. 

“We weren’t even close, were we?” he muttered. 

“From where I’m sitting, we sent him off running,” Picquery replied, a hint of defiance in her voice.

Percival scoffed softly at that. Those must be some charming VIP seats she was sitting in, he thought. Because down in the bleaches, it looked a whole lot more like they were being toyed with. 

He didn’t say this of course. It wouldn’t be well received. His silence was taken to be defeatist enough it seemed. 

Picquery cleared her throat, and Percival forced himself to look up and meet her eye. 

“Don’t lose hope,” she said. “We will get him.”

Percival held her eye a moment longer, before glancing away, frowning hesitantly, thoughtfully, before finally uttering, against his better judgement, “Will we though? Can we?”

“We have in the past,” Picquery replied, frowning slightly as she looked at him. 

“And he escaped,” Percival argued, and as he did he could feel some of the panic he tried to keep pushed off to the edges of his mind clawing its way out. “He did it easily by all accounts. And now he’s taunting us, with no particular concern about recapture. For pity sake, Seraphina, there were five of us tonight. Five! And we weren’t even close to beating him.”

“We had him runnin-’

“We didn’t!” Graves barked, hitting the table with frustration, surprising even himself with the display of anger, no, of rage. He wasn’t even aware it had been bubbling up. 

He grimaced as Picquery fixed him with a cool, calculating look. 

He shook his head and glanced away. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. 

“You don’t think we can beat him,” Picquery said. It wasn’t a question. 

Percival sighed and shrugged. 

“I don’t know,” he uttered. “This isn’t like anything that we’ve faced before. This isn’t No-Maj fringe groups or Pureblood fanatics. Grindelwald… he’s on another level.”

“So you suggest, what? We just give in?” Picquery asked, her sculpted brow rising high.

“Of course not,” Percival muttered, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked back up at her. “I just don’t think we should proceed by kidding ourselves into thinking we’re more capable than we are. Into thinking for a moment that we had him on the run tonight.”

Picquery inclined her head at that. 

“I suppose that has merit,” she replied. “The opposite is something you need to be mindful of as well Percival,” she said. 

“The opposite?” Percival uttered, frowning. 

“Be careful that you don’t start convincing yourself, because of everything that’s happened, that the cause is lost, and that beating the man is impossible.”

Percival frowned some more at that.

“I’m not-”

“Are you not?” Picquery asked, before getting to her feet. 

Percival rose as well, eyeing the woman warily as she walked around the table and stood in front of him. 

“Don’t think I don’t see the damage that he’s done, Percival,” she said. 

“He hasn’t-”

“He has,” she said, cutting him off again. “But damage can be repaired, wounds can heal. If you tend to them, rather than leaving them to fester.”

Graves frowned as he looked at her, not sure how to respond to that. 

She lifted a hand to his shoulder, and Percival, to his own, quiet fury, flinched sharply at the movement. But the woman, his friend, one of his oldest really, wasn’t deterred. Giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze she met his eyes, holding his gaze steadily.

“He’s just a man, Percival,” she said. “Every man can be beaten. And we will. We will beat him, we’ll either lock him up for good, or send him fleeing with his tail between his legs. And then he will know. He  _ will _ know that the people of this country _ do not _ take tyranny laying down.”

There was a hard, open determination on her face, fire burning bright in her eyes as she spoke. It was the same determination and fire that had gotten her into the position she was in today, it was the same qualities that he’d always respected in her. They were qualities that, a year ago, he had shared. A year ago he would have nodded back just as surely. A year ago he’d have been motivated to act, to draw battle plans, to hunt the man down this very second. A year ago, he had been so much braver. 

At this moment though, it took all he had to nod convincingly and mutter the expected, “Yes, Madam President.”

Picquery eyed him for a moment longer, before letting out a soft sigh. Percival couldn’t help but feel like he’d disappointed her. He wished he had the strength to be the man she remembered him to be. But he didn’t. Not any more. It had been stripped from him. 

Eventually she patted his arm again before letting her hand drop. 

“Report to my office 8 o’clock tomorrow morning,” she said, back to business. “I will brief you on what you’ve missed over the past week and we will get to work on the Grindelwald situation.”

Percival blinked, lifting his head.

“I’m off medical leave?” he asked. 

“I think so, yes,” she said. “It doesn’t seem to be doing you any good. You always did tend to sulk.”

Percival sniffed. 

“I’ve not been sulking!” he huffed. 

“I’m sure. But yes, back to work. I think it’s about time,” she said. “Besides which, I need my right hand back.” 

Percival watched, perhaps the tiniest bit wide eyed, as she shot him an almost imperceptible smile, before sweeping out the room without another word. 

He was going back to work. He was finally going to be allowed to function like normal again, to get on with his life, to be proactive. He should be a whole lot more excited than this, and a whole lot less uneasy.

Shaking his head he took in a deep breath and drew himself up to his full height, squaring his shoulders a little, lifting his chin as he looked around the room. He needed to pull himself together and he needed to do it fast. There were people relying on him now. He couldn’t go acting stupid about this, it wasn’t just about him and his feelings anymore, this was more important. 

He glanced up when he heard a noise in the door, and found Tina standing there. 

He frowned a little as he looked at her. There was a tenseness about her, a few more lines on her face that weren’t ordinarily there. When he stepped forward she flinched mightily, almost like she was being shaken from a day-dream. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Yes Sir. Sorry, just got distracted,” she replied, before letting her eyes wander around the room once again. 

Percival arched his brow and glanced around the room himself, curious if he’d missed something. He didn’t feel like he had. 

“Tina, are you sure you’re alright?” he asked. 

Tina hummed, before biting her lip and glancing fleetingly up at him, before looking away again.

“Yes Mr Graves,” she said. “It’s just… well, this is the room that Newt and I…. where he…” She bit her lip again, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. “I thought I was going to die,” she whispered. 

Graves sighed deeply at that and nodded, gently ushering her out of the room. 

“I know it doesn’t feel like it,” he said as he shut the door behind them, blocking view of the inside of the room. “Especially after tonight. But I promise you, it’s over.”

He lifted his chin defiantly, and said firmly, “You’ll never have to encounter him like that again. The next time you see him in this room, at that table, you will be on the other side of it.”

He wasn’t sure they would ever get the man in the room, not really, but he said it anyway. People looked to him for strength, Tina this moment was looking to him for strength and he’d be damned if he failed in that at the very least.  Even if the foundations were crumbling beneath him, he’d be a pillar of strength for these people for as long as he could manage it. 

It seemed to work this time. Tina nodded firmly and pulled herself together, straightening her back and lifting her head a little higher as well. 

“Yes Sir,” she replied, meeting his eyes. He could see some of the fire that had been burning in Picquery’s eyes in Tina’s now. This time, he found himself glad for it. It would keep them going. He didn’t want to ever look in the younger aurors eyes and find that fire had been put out. 

He nodded down the corridor before the two of them set off. 

“So what were you after?” he asked. 

“Oh, I ran into Madam Picquery as she left,” she said. “I…. I did try to dissuade her sir, I told her you need your own space, but she says that she’d appreciate it if you carried on staying with Queenie and I until they can figure out how Grindelwald got past your wards. As it seems that ours held enough to keep him outside.”

Percival grimaced, humming his understanding. 

“I’m afraid I’m not too surprised,” he said, before grimacing apologetically. “I’m sorry that your sister and you have been further inconvenienced by all of this.”

“Oh, no, Mr Graves sir, it’s alright with us,” Tina said. “Safety in numbers, right? Besides, you’re not a bad flatmate.”

Percival scoffed softly, grateful for the lightness of the conversation. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, shaking his head as they reached the atrium. 

“All the same, I appreciate your hospitality. Your sister’s as well, of course,” he said. “I’ll try to be out of your hair as soon as possible.”

Tina smiled a little at that and nodded, before they stepped outside. 

“We never did get around to eating dinner,” she commented, glancing around. “Do you want to get some hot dogs?” she asked. 

Percival arched his brow. 

“At this time of night?” he asked. 

“I know a place,” Tina replied with a grin, before hopping down the steps of the Woolworth Building. “Come on!”

It came as a bit of a surprise to him, but it seemed the hot dogs, fresh air and refreshing company was just what he needed to help calm the worst of his nerves. They ended up walking to Tina’s building rather than apparating, which Percival was grateful for. It had been a week since he’d been out and about after all, and even then, fresh air was still something he quietly revelled in. Like water for a man in the desert, fire for the cold, the cold, crisp winter air brought immense relief to him. 

Tina didn’t push too hard to talk either, which he appreciated almost as much. By the time they reached her townhouse, he was feeling a good deal better than he had in a long time.

He blamed this good mood for his carelessness stepping inside and almost instantly getting accosted by a stout, bespeckled woman guarding the ground floor of the residence. 

“Tina!” she squawked upon laying eyes on him, pointing a walking stick straight at Tina and himself. “Who is this! I’ve told you, no men! Not in my house.”

Percival and Tina exchanged a quick, alarmed glance before turning to the woman, Mrs Esposito, the landlady. 

Tina gasped loudly before quickly stepping forward. 

“Oh, Mrs Esposito I was just on my way to talk to you,” she said earnestly. “I’ve got such a problem.”

Percival arched his brow a little at that as the older woman cast him a rather dangerous look, before ushering Tina a couple more steps away from where he was standing. 

“I’ll call the police, come to my room,” she uttered under her breath. 

“Oh, no Ma’am, it’s not him,” Tina said, shaking her head. “You see this is… my... brother. Percival,” she said. 

Both Percival and Mrs Esposito fixed her with equally confused looks after that announcement. 

“Your brother?” the old lady uttered. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“It’s a family secret,” Percival drawled, raising a hand in apology at the dirty look Tina shot him. 

“Ignore him,” she said, turning back to her landlady. “He’s just testy because he only just got off a ship.”

“A ship?” Mrs Esposito drawled, folding her arms over her chest. “From where?”

“Well that’s the beginning of the problem, Ma’am,” Tina said. “You see, Mis-my brother, Percy, he’s been living in Europe for the last few years. In rotten… rotten… um-”

“Denmark?”

“Denmark, that’s it,” Tina replied, nodding firmly as she steered Mrs Esposito around and over to the stairs, glancing over her shoulder and mouthing furiously “ _ DENMARK?!!” _

Percival smiled and shrugged as he wandered in after them, shutting the door behind him. He made sure to keep his distance from the older woman, she looked the type to be able to wield a cane quite effectively. And he wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t have a broom squirreled away somewhere to chase him away with either. 

“Well, he’s been in Denmark for the past few years, and oh Mrs Esposito, it’s terrible,” Tina sighed dramatically. “You see, he’s a hopeless romantic, my brother.  _ Absolutely _ hopeless. And well, the girl that he was with, the  _ love of his life _ , she got the jump on him. Took everything he owned and then some, didn’t she Percy? You barely had the money for the trip home.”

Percival arched his brow a little at that. He feared he was being punished for his cheek earlier. All the same he had to play along. 

So heaving a deep sigh he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped forward. 

“It’s true Ma’am,” he said. “I’m sorry, this is all my fault. I was talking to Tina about my situation and, she’s always been too kind for her own good, she invited me to stay with Queenie and her until I could get back on my feet,” he said. “I didn’t even think to ask whether she was putting herself in a situation on my behalf. I’m sorry Ma’am, I’ll go somewhere else.”

“How?” Mrs Esposito asked, still suspicious but perhaps a little less hostile than before. “You haven’t any money I thought.”

“I’ve slept on worse than a bench before Ma’am. I’ll make do. I’m sorry again for the impositio-”

“Big brother!!” Queenie cried as she walked through the door, flinging her arms around his neck and giving him two loud kisses on each cheek. 

To be perfectly honest Percival wasn’t used to this degree of physical contact. It was getting a bit uncomfortable. But he was in this deep, he needed to keep playing along. 

“Queenie,  this really is your brother?” Ms Esposito asked, arching a white brow. 

“Of course he is, Mrs Esposito, can’t you see the family resemblance?” she asked with a wide smile as she pressed another kiss to his cheek. “Oh Teenie, did you tell her about that awful fiancee of his? Who does that sort of thing? That’s what I want to know. She’s lucky she’s in Denmark or I’d pop her right in the nose, I really would.”

Predictably, hearing Queenie confirming Tina’s story, in spite of having no possible way of knowing ahead of time (in the old woman’s eyes at least) was the last piece of evidence that she needed. 

“So you have nothing?” she asked, turning to Percival.

“Just the clothes on my back, Ma’am,” Percival replied, shaking his head. “Honestly, I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll make alternative arrangement-”

“No no, you can stay as long as you need to,” she said. “As long as you’re all family, I suppose it’s not really immoral, having you stay with the girls. The same rules apply to you though, young man. I don’t want any women traipsing through my house. This is a respectable residence, not a brothel. Understood?”

“Yes Ma’am,” Percival replied, nodding firmly. “No women. I promise.”

Mrs Esposito nodded back.

“Alright then, then you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need,” she said. 

“Yay!!’ Queenie cried, hugging his arm tightly before stepping forward and hugging the old woman. 

“Thank you Mrs Esposito. Oh, that’s such a weight off my mind. Isn’t it for you Tina?”

“Absolutely. Thank you Ma’am,” Tina said with a smile. 

“The family’s all back together!” Queenie cried, clapping her hands before nodding to the stairs. “Come on, we’ve got to get you settled in. Percy I want to hear everything about Denmark!”

“So do I,” Tina drawled, shooting the man a small, if somewhat luke-warm glare as they walked upstairs after bidding their landlady good night. 

“I think you both enjoyed that a bit too much,” Percival drawled, rolling his eyes as they stepped inside the apartment. “And brother, honestly?”

“You and Teenie could pass as siblings,” Queenie said with a shrug. 

“Denmark?! Why Denmark?!” Tina huffed as she hung up her coat. “Why couldn’t you pick someplace normal.”

Percival shrugged as he hung up his own coat. 

“ _ Something is rotten in the state of Denmark _ ,” he replied, blinking a little when spotted the bemused looks that were being sent his way in response. “It’s from a play,” he elaborated.

“Shakespeare?” Queenie said, frowning thoughtfully. “That sounds familiar.”

“He was a No-Maj playwright.” Percival replied with a shrug. “A friend of mine was a fan.”

“Theseus.” 

“That’s the one,” Percival replied, running a hand through his hair. “Ms Goldstein, I thought we talked about going through my head.”

“It’s harder not to than people think,” Queenie replied, looking a little put out. 

Percival sighed but inclined his head.

“I will try and keep my shields up better then,” he said, wincing slightly as he shifted over to the sofa, then thought better of it. The walk had been lovely but it hadn’t helped the inevitable aches from the activity of this evening. He needed a proper rest. 

Rubbing tiredly at his face he glanced over to the girls. 

“If it’s all the same with you two, I think I might just go to bed. It’s been a long night.”

Both Tina and Queenie nodded. 

“Of course, Mr Graves. Do you need anything? Coco?” Tina asked.

“No thank you,” Percival replied, shaking his head. “I will be fine. Thank you for your continued hospitality.”

“That’s alright, Mr Graves. We’re happy to have you,” Queenie replied with a smile. “Now, go rest. You’re exhausted, I can tell.”

Percival hummed, inclining his head at that, before wishing them both goodnight and making his way down to his room. 

He was exhausted. Absolutely shattered really. It wasn’t any excuse for missing the signs he was sure were there beforehand though. 

But he did miss them. Without giving so much as a quick scan of the room he walked into the spare bedroom, swinging the door shut behind him and moving straight over to the bed. He needed to sleep, he wasn’t going to even attempt to conquer the mattress again, and instead just grabbed a pillow and blanket from on top of it, dropping it on the ground and working on unbuttoning his shirt. It was only when he turned back around to the closet standing in the corner of the room when he found himself confronted with the heartstopping sight of Gellert Grindelwald standing by the door, a wide grin spread across his face, wand in his hand and pointed straight at him.

Percival let out a choked, startled cry as he stumbled back, almost toppling over the bedside drawer in his haste to get away, before grabbing his wand and pointing it straight at the other man in turn.

“Ah I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Grindelwald drawled, pushing off of the wall behind the door. 

“How did you get past the wards?” Graves snapped, the tip of his wand glowing readily as he  pointed it straight at the other man’s face. 

Grindelwald scoffed. 

“You’re a smart man, Director. I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually,” he drawled, before cocking his head, frowning thoughtfully. “Then again-”

“What are you doing here?!” Graves snarled. 

“You were quite rude to me earlier. Something needs to be done about that,” Grindelwald replied with a smile. “It seems you’ve forgotten your place.”

“My place,” Percival sneered back, “Is right here, between you and everybody else.”

“Indeed,” Grindelwald chuckled, nodding. “Which brings me back to what I was saying before, I think you should put your wand down and co-operate for once, Percival.”

“Are you mad?” Percival replied, a disbelieving grin spreading across his face. Where were Tina and Queenie? 

“I am sure some will say so,” Grindelwald replied. “But as I was saying, if you put your wand down, and you co-operate with me, I give my word that I will leave your little friends unscathed. But if you fight me Percival, if you send one spell my way, you better be sure that you win. Because if you don’t, if you’re too weak to beat me, I promise you, I will kill every single person in this building. And you will be last, my boy. So the question here is, do you think that you can beat me?”

Percival faltered a little at that, his wand shaking in his hand as he held it up, even as his heart pounded painfully hard in his chest. 

He couldn’t. He couldn’t beat him. He knew he couldn’t. If he couldn’t do it in his peak he definitely couldn’t at his weakest.

“It’s your choice to make, Director,” Grindelwald drawled, his smile growing wider still. “Will you allow them to live? Or is your pride more important than their lives.”

Percival watched the man carefully, all the while  _ screaming _ in his head, “ _ QUEENIE! GET YOUR SISTER AND GET OUT!! GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!” _

“They’re not going to hear you,” Grindelwald laughed. “Ms Goldstein is a fine talent, no doubt about that. But she’s both trying to mind your privacy and not strong enough to breach my walls.”

Grindelwald chuckled quietly and stepped forward, seemingly unconcerned by the wand that was still pointed at his heart, like he knew that Percival would give in, that he wouldn’t dare defy him in this.

He flinched away when the other man raised his hand, but backed up against the wall like he was, he had nowhere to go and before long he could feel the cold, hard, horribly familiar feeling of it cupping his cheek. 

“Percival?” he prompted, like he was talking to a naughty child. “Make your choice, or I will have to make it for you.”

“ _ QUEENIE! RUN! I CAN’T FIGHT HIM WITH YOU HERE! RUN! PLEASE!!” _

“She can’t hear you,” Grindelwald chuckled, his thumb brushing over the other man’s lips with an amused smile. “Nobody’s coming for you Percival. This is on you, it’s all on you. Will you fight, or will you submit? Can you beat me, my boy? Do you truly think you can?”

He couldn’t. He couldn’t beat him. He never stood a chance. So many times he’d tried and he’d failed. He wasn’t strong enough. He’d never be strong enough. 

“There we are,” Grindelwald chuckled, like he’d read his mind. Perhaps he did. He probably did. Nothing was sacred with this man. 

He felt something break a little inside him. He didn’t know what exactly, but it felt important. Perhaps it was his spirit. 

“Why are you doing this?” Percival uttered, fighting desperately to hold the other man’s mismatched gaze. “If you’re going to kill me, just kill me. Why are you doing all of this?”

“You want to die?” Grindelwald asked, sounding almost genuinely perplexed as his hand slipped down his face all the while, gripping the other man’s throat for a second, as if checking it still fit around it right. “What good would that do?”

“What good is this doing?” Percival hissed, flinching sharply as he felt the man’s hand coming around to grip him sharply around the scruff of the neck, before gentling to a mere steady pressure.

Grindelwald shrugged. 

“Everyone needs a hobby,” he replied simply, before holding his hand out. “Percival, give me your wand.”

Percival’s hand was openly trembling now. 

“How do I know that you’re not just going to turn around and kill them all regardless?” he uttered. 

“You don’t,” Grindelwald replied simply. “But I can promise you I will if you don’t.”

Percival looked down at his wand, the one that had protected him since he was 11 years old, had fought so valiantly when it had been stolen by his imposter, far more valiantly than he ever did. 

Letting his eyes fall shut he lifted his hand and surrendered it to Grindelwald. 

“There we are,” Grindelwald breathed, his thumb coming up to trace the line of his jaw once again. “I knew you were still in there somewhere, my boy,” he uttered. “Still, recompense needs to be made.”

Percival’s heart beat harder in his chest, his breath becoming a bit more ragged when the man pushed down on his shoulder, until finally he was forced to his knees in front of him. 

“You’ve no one to blame this on but yourself, Director,” Grindelwald uttered as his fingers came up to tangle in the other man’s hair. 

Percival squeezed his eyes shut and tried his very best to compose himself, but he couldn’t help but flinch slightly at the sound of a zipper being undone. 

“Come now, Director. You know how this goes.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys! Happy New Years everyone, I hope you all have a fantastic night and here's hoping we all have a much, 'much' better year in 2017. 
> 
> As always thank you all so much for your lovely comments. I'm really so glad that you're still enjoying the story and really appreciate you taking the time out to tell me so!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter.

“Now don’t be difficult, Director,” Grindelwald said, digging his thumb sharply into the joint of Percival’s jaw to force his mouth open. It wasn’t without struggle, but eventually he couldn’t resist the pressure any longer and with a snarl of frustration, felt his lips being pried apart.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to will his mind away once again when he felt two fingers slip inside the second he did, pressing down on his tongue. A sharp slap around the head was enough to make it clear he would be denied that comfort.

“Do you remember what happens to you if you try biting, my boy?” Grindelwald asked, an amused smile curling at his lips.

Percival glared up at him, weathering the sharp slap he got for his defiance once again.

“I have no problem pulling your teeth out, again,” Grindelwald warned, his brow rising as he shift his hand inside Percival’s mouth, taking hold of one of his upper canines. All it would take was a sharp tug, or a slow pull, for it to come free. Percival tried to flinch away, but he was held still, both by the wall and the grip Grindelwald had in his hair.

Grindelwald smirked, giving the tooth a warning tug.

Finally Percival forced himself to nod. He hated himself for it, but he’d hated the pain of having his teeth ripped out one by one even more. Though, he thought the triumphant look that spread across the other man’s face could very well come in a close second for things he hated most about this situation.

“Still got that fire in you, don’t you, Director?” Grindelwald scoffed before pressing down on his tongue once more, chuckling at the gag that it dragged from the other man.

“Don’t lose that, my boy. It’s one of your only redeeming qualities in my opinion,” he commented before retracting his fingers and, without any further pretence, guiding his cock in instead.

Percival gagged again at the familiar taste.

“Oh now, none of that,” Grindelwald chided, rocking his hips forward. “You’re hardly a blushing virgin, are you? I’ve seen inside your head. You did make the most of the war didn’t you, my boy? All those fine young men not knowing what day would be their last. Perfect hunting ground, is it not- ah ah ah, don’t even think about it,” he snarled, as he caught the thought of biting his cock right off passing through Percival’s mind.

Gripping the other man’s hair hard enough to scalp him if he wanted, Grindelwald waited a moment longer, eyes burning holes into the top of Percival’s skull, before scoffing and carrying on. He chuckled as he forced himself into the auror’s mouth.

“Sore subject, I suppose,” he drawled, shrugging.

Percival wished he would just stop talking. The man was forcing himself upon him, the very, _very_ least he could do was treat the situation with a modicum of seriousness, rather than a chat over bloody tea. Something small and insignificant, casual, benign.

His mind had wandered it seemed, if the sharp tugging on his hair was anything to go by. Either that, or Grindelwald’s had. He did seem to be losing some of his control, pumping a little more erratically into his mouth. Percival tried to find some amusement in that. He hadn’t been on his knees for more than a minute or two after all. Somebody had been having some lonely nights it seemed.

He choked as the other man’s hand came to grip the back of his head, forcing him all the way down his length, the other coming to pinch his nose shut.

Ah. He’d heard him.

“I like the fire, my boy. But don’t go being cheeky,” Grindelwald uttered breathily as his hips stuttered backwards and forwards just a little, before finally coming down Percival’s throat.

He held him there a moment longer, just until Percival’s vision started to blur, before finally releasing him and letting him fall to a heap on the ground.

Percival dragged in deep, loud breaths, spluttering all the while as Grindelwald tucked himself back away.

“So drama-”

“Mr Graves,” Tina called from outside the door, knocking a couple of times, but blessfully staying outside, for now.

Both Percival and Grindelwald froze at the voice.

“Tell her to go away and make it good if you want her to live,” Grindelwald said, crouching beside him, grabbing the back of his neck as he waved his wand to lift whatever spell was blocking the noise of their encounter from escaping.

“Mr Graves?”

Percival coughed weakly, glancing over to Grindelwald. His wand was right there. In his belt. Just out of reach but if he made a lunge for it maybe-

“You think you can beat me now, do you?” Grindelwald snarled, shifting so the wand was turned further from him. “May I remind you which one of us is choking on-”

“I’m fine, Tina,” Graves rasped out, glaring over at the other man. “Just that recurring nightmare. Nothing for you to worry about.”

_Get the message. Leave! Leave now!_

For a moment there was silence, Percival held his breath.

_Run. Don’t come in. Don’t come in. Mercy Lewis just run for it woman!_

And for a brief second he thought she just might have. A faint green flash crept under the door. But then he realised, dread building up inside him, Tina hadn’t responded. Or walked away.

_Oh Merlin on a stick_

The door slammed open and Tina stepped in, firing a stunning spell right at Grindelwald, though he managed to block it easily enough.

“Oh Tina,” Grindelwald scoffed, getting to his feet and pointing his wand straight at the young auror. “You really are always popping up when you’re least wanted, aren’t you? I’ll have to do something about tha-AH!”

Percival tackled the other man clean across the room. Nice to know all those years as a beater had been useful for something. They both his the ground hard, but Percival didn’t want to lose his advantage and forced himself back up, scrambling over to the other man an instant later, punching him in the face before groping at his belt, pulling his own wand free.

“No you don’t,” Grindelwald snarled, his hand coming up to wrap around Percival’s throat, pushing him hard down onto the floor, straddling his hips as he slashed his wand over at Tina, knocking her down as well.

Percival snarled, clawing at the hand at his throat. It did little good. Grindelwald was almost single-mindedly attempting to force him to release his wand by beating his hand against the corner of the dresser with all of his might. Percival swore he could feel something snapping in it, but held on with all his might regardless.

Eventually it did clatter to the ground though. But before the other man could grab it, Tina dashed forward and had kicked it out of the way.

Graves took the second Grindelwald took to watch it roll away to smash his uninjured fist into the underside of his jaw, dragging in deep breaths when it got the other man to release his grip on his throat.

Tina attempted to stun Grindelwald again, ducking when it ricocheted off the shield that Grindelwald summoned and went straight back at her, followed by an almost sloppy curse of his own.

Drawing in a deep breath he swung his fist at the man straddling his hips once again, catching him in the belly, stunning him enough to wriggle free from his grasp. Tina grabbed his arm and dragged him back and away a little quicker.

Grindelwald coughed a couple of times as he staggered to his feet, wand still pointed at them, a bloody grin spread across his face.

“It really is a shame, that you two won’t come around to my way of thinking,” he said. “You could both be so useful to the cause.”

“The oppression of No-Maj’s you mean?” Tina snapped.

“The liberation of our kind,” Grindelwald replied, shaking his head. “Tina, you of all people should understand. How many months did you spend in the basements, for doing the right thing! Just because some small minded little nobodies saw what you were capable of. What _we_ are capable of!”

Tina shook her head in disbelief.

“You’re the one who sent me there,” she pointed out.

“And it was the most lenient punishment I could manage to claw from your blessed President,” Grindelwald replied, lips curling with disgust at the thought of the woman. “She too is a shame. Such talent squashed by pig-headed pandering to the weak.”

Tina shook her head in disgust.

“Don’t even try it,” she said. “My loyalties lie with MACUSA, the President, and Mr Graves.”

“The one that was just on his knees for me a moment ago,” Grindelwald drawled, his brows rising a little. “You should tie your loyalties to someone a little less… pathetic, I should think.”

Tina froze for a moment, before letting out an angry hiss of her own and stepping forward, firing off curses and hexes at Grindelwald, who was laughing as he deflected each and every single one of them with a wave or flick of his hand. He wasn’t even bothering with his wand.

“And I’m not the first, am I Percival?” the man laughed all the while. “Did you know that, Tina? The great war hero here, the mighty oppressor, spent most of his nights on the battlefield with a man in him one way or anothe- oh you sneaky little thing,” he laughed, sending a hex at the wand that was skittering across the thin carpet and over to Percival’s outstretched hand. But it was a sloppy spell, almost slow to leave the wand, and missed Percival’s as it zipped the rest of the way across the room and to its master.

Percival arched his brow a little as he got to his feet, standing beside Tina. He had to hold his wand in his other hand, his wand-hand didn’t seem to want to close properly at the time, but it was better than nothing.

“You’re losing your edge, Grindelwald,” he commented as he and Tina both lifted their wands. “There’s no shame in coming quietly.”

“Indeed, there is some in going out that way though,” Grindelwald replied, seemingly calm, but Percival could spot the wrinkles of a sneer beginning to form around his nose and by his eyes. He was not happy with how the night had gone, clearly.

Good.

Percival and Tina stepped forward, managing to get a spell off each, one of them even managed to clip the man’s arm Percival thought, but he couldn’t be sure because a second later they were both blasted back across the room and out the door.

The back of his head whacked against the doorframe with a loud crack, and as he hit the wall of the hall and fell to the ground beside Tina, he could feel something wet trickling down the back of his neck. He looked up blearily, his vision fuzzy and his mind feeling a bit more distant than he thought it should, as he watched the other man stalking over to them. With a wave of the other man’s hand, he felt his wand fly away from him and clatter down the hall. A second later he heard Tina’s doing the same.

Grindelwald snarled angrily down at the both of them, brandishing his wand with a sharp swing. There was a flash of red, and then noise. It took a moment for Percival to realise that it was screaming, and it was Tina that the noise was coming from.

Grindelwald let out a bark-like laugh, and a red light lit up the hall once more, Tina's screaming doubling in volume.

"Well, that fixes that problem," the man chuckled, lifting the curse for a moment, before slashing his wand once more.

Percival attempted to push the other man back with wandless magic, but the crack on the head seemed to have dazed him too much for the focus that that required. Maybe a little summoning charm though. Maybe he could manage that.

There was another flash of red, and this time it wasn’t Tina screaming.

Percival wasn’t sure how long it lasted in total, it could have been a minute. It could have been an hour, but eventually the spell was lifted, leaving both Tina and him limp and twitching helplessly on the ground.

He could just make out some more flashes of light, green this time, but it didn’t sound like anyone was dueling around them. There were shoes thudding across the floor, a fair few of them. There were people stepping over Tina and himself and flooding into the spare room. Still no spell-fire.

Ah. the bastard had gotten away. Again.

“Graves! Look at me! Percival!” someone was saying.

Percival blinked and looked up in the direction of the voice, finding the president kneeling beside him. She looked like she was in her pajamas, which was almost enough to make him smile. Almost.

She was talking. He’d zoned out. That’s probably not a terribly good sign.

“Healers are on the way. Just try and stay alert,” she said.

Percival scoffed softly at that. If he’d had been alert none of this would have happened.

Groaning quietly with the effort he rolled over to check on Tina, finding her in her sister’s arms. She looked beat up but she was alive. Well that was one thing at the very least.

Comforted with that knowledge, Percival passed out.

 

* * *

  

The sun was shining through the windows of the med bay when he woke up. His head was pounding harder than it did after a night together with a bottle of firewhisky. He could feel the bones and ligaments in his wand-hand shifting uncomfortably beneath the skin, knitting themselves back together. It wasn’t a pleasant way to wake up, but he’d had worse.

Groaning softly he pushed himself upright, sighing heavily as memories of the night before hit him like a bludger to the head. He had nobody to blame it all on but himself. He’d given up. Grindelwald had played the mind game and he’d given in and-

He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth as a wave of nausea hit him. He could still taste him, and he wasn’t sure if that was legitimate or imagined. God he’d let it happen to him again.

Breathing in deeply through his nose he tried to clear his mind, push the nausea away.

Someone cleared their throat a little to his left. He whipped around, his hand flying to where his wand would usually be (Mercy Lewis! Where was his wand now?!), before settling a little when he spotted Tina sitting up in the bed next to his. Queenie was sitting in a chair beside her.

“Morning Boss,” she said, looking concerned.

“Morning,” Percival croaked, rubbing at his tender, no doubt colourfully bruised throat as he twisted around, looking for his wand.

He flinched when Queenie appeared out of nowhere (she hadn’t of course, he’d gotten distracted. Stupid) and held it out to him.

“I wanted to keep it safe,” she said, by way of explanation.

“Thank you,” Graves uttered, taking it back and clutching it to him like a lifeline for a moment, before drawing in a deep breath and forcing himself to calm. He was making a spectacle out of himself.

“How are you?” he asked, turning to Tina.

“Oh, you know. Twitchy,” Tina replied, shrugging. “You?”

“Twitchy,” Percival uttered, the corner of his lip curling upwards for a second, before it dropped, his eyes quickly following. “What happened last night?”

“You… you don’t remember?” Tina asked, concerned.

“I didn’t knock my head that badly,’ Percival replied. “I meant on your end. What happened?”

“Oh,” Tina uttered, frowning as she thought about it all. “Well, Queenie caught on first.”

“I couldn’t hear you,” Queenie said. “I was trying to leave you be, but even then you can usually hear someone thinking, it’s just more muffled and distant. But you had gone completely silent.”

Percival arched his brow a little at that.

“I’m surprised he didn’t think of that,” he commented.

“Thoughts aren’t as easy to fake as looks and voices,” Queenie said with a shrug. “And I’m used to yours now. He couldn’t pretend to be you behind a wall whilst blocking you out entirely.”

Graves hummed, nodding.

“And after that?”

“Well, I went to investigate,” Tina said, nodding. “Something felt really off. So I called to you, and your reply… you’ve never talked to us about any of the nightmares, and the only recurring thing I could think of was Grindelwald, so I figured that that was what was going on.”

“I thought you’d pick up on that,” Percival replied with a small smile, before rolling his eyes. “I notice the ‘Run for it’ part of the message didn’t click though.”

Tina grinned a little at that herself.

“Went right over my head,” she lied.

Percival sniffed, shaking his head (and regretting it a second later).

“Then?”

“Teenie told me to floo to MACUSA. Get the president and whoever was left in the building. It took a while because there weren’t many people left in the building and I had to get someone to floo Madam Picquerry.”

Percival hummed and acknowledgment. He had figured as much himself, the building did tend to go rather dead from about 8 o’clock onwards.

“You know the rest from there,” Tina finished off, running a hand through her messed up hair.

Graves nodded again, thinking it all over, putting all of the information he had into place in his head, before sighing heavily.

“I owe you both an apology,” he uttered. “This wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t ordered to take me into your home.”

“It would have. We just wouldn’t have gotten mixed up in it all,” Tina replied, frowning.

“That’s what I meant,” Percival replied, rubbing the back of his head, wincing again when he found that too was incredibly tender to touch. “You shouldn’t have been.”

“And you should?” Tina asked, frowning.

“I don’t seem to have a great deal of choice in the matter,” Percival replied, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “The man is nothing if not persistent.”

“Well then neither did we,’ Tina replied stubbornly. “I’m an auror, not some little girl that needs protecting. When people are in danger it’s my job to step in, the same as it is yours. _You_ taught me that. That doesn’t change when you’re the one that’s in danger, Sir.”

“Tina-”

“No, it doesn’t change things at all,” Tina huffed. “Please tell me that you didn’t let him hurt you to protect us?”

Graves sniffed, setting his jaw a little stubbornly as he replied, “I didn’t let him hurt me to protect you.”

Tina huffed.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Queenie said.

Percival shot the woman an annoyed frown.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep out of my head?” he grumbled.

“I didn’t even need to go into your head to tell you that,” Queenie replied.

“But thank you for the confirmation,” Tina said.

Graves let out a frustrated sigh and laid back down on his bed.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Tina continued, clearly far more annoyed by all of this than she had any right to be.

Percival glared up at the high ceiling of the room, gritting out, “If I didn’t he would have killed us all.”

“And what was the plan exactly? Let him do whatever he wanted to you and hope that he didn’t go and do that anyway?” Tina snapped, her indignation emboldening her.

“I’m not saying it was a stroke of genius on my part,” Percival snapped. “But I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“You could have shouted. We could have helped.”

“He would have _killed. Us. all_.”

“He very well could have killed you.”

“What a great loss that would be,” Percival muttered bitterly.

The girls fell silent, and he froze once he realised they had. Merlin’s beard, he’d said that outloud.

“Ignore that,” he said.

“Is that what you think?” Tina asked. “That you dying wouldn’t be a loss?”

“No.”

“It is,” Queenie said, frowning.

“Morgana’s socks woman!” Percival snapped, frustration, no, anger flashing through him as he pushed himself upright. “How many times do I have to tell you-!”

“Don’t take it out on her just because you’re upset!” Tina snapped back, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Percival faltered a little at that. Not only had Tina just well and truly told him off, she was absolutely right to do so. He was being an unforgivable arse.

He grimaced and ducked his head, before looking over at Queenie again.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Queenie shook her head.

“It’s alright,” she said. “I can feel how upset you are, I don’t blame you for being a little grouchy.”

Percival grimaced, but nodded his thanks all the same, before letting out a soft sigh.

“Well, regardless, neither of you need worry. He made it quite clear last night that he doesn’t have any real intention of seeking me out to kill me. Apparently I’m too enjoyable a hobby for that.”

Both Tina and Queenie frowned darker at that, not sure how to respond.

“I apologise for the trouble,” He muttered. “I apologise for you getting mixed up in this in your own home, I apologise for you getting hurt Tina, I apologise for being short with you throughout the course of this conversation. Please. Can we stop talking about it.”

“You need to talk  about it with someone.”

“The last thing I need to do is talk,” Percival grit out.

“You can’t just bottle all of this up.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree on that,” Graves muttered, folding his arms over his chest.

A silence fell, one of the uncomfortable kinds, but none of them were willing or able to break it for the longest time.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk to us,” Tina eventually said, doggedly ignoring the loud, frustrated sigh her comment drew from him.

“Tina-”

“But is there anybody?” she asked, pressing on. “A friend. Or family member. Anyone.”

“No,” Percival replied cooly. “Nobody.”

And thank goodness for that. He’d hate to think what his father would have to say about all of this if he were alive. What his mother would think. The disappointment they’d have in him, the shame they’d feel. Their son, the weak link. The one that nearly brought the wizarding community of America to its knees.

“There’s nobody,” he muttered again.

“Alright,” Tina said quietly, her brows furrowed thoughtfully. He could see her mind working, trying to find a solution, a way to fix all of this, to fix him.

Sighing deeply he laid back down on his bed, shutting his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said, drawing in a deep breath. “This isn’t enough to beat me. I’ll sort it out eventually.”

“You don’t need to alone,” Tina said.

“I’d rather it that way.”

“But-”

“Tina. Please stop,” Percival said. “I’m fine.”

“But you’re not,” Tina insisted, her tone stubborn. “We’ve work together long enough for me to know when you’re lying about something, Sir.”

“Really?” Percival scoffed, the frustration and hurt of everything that had happened, last night, over the past week, over the past year, rolling about inside of him once again. Damn her! Why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone, for goodness sake!

“You know me better than I do, do you?” he sniffed.

“Perhaps I do,” Tina argued.

“Funny that. A couple of months ago you couldn’t tell me apart from a mass-murdering psychopath but now you’re the expert are you?” Percival retorted before he could stop himself.

Silence fell again, and once again as suddenly as they came, the flash of emotion drained from him, leaving him feeling hollow and regretting his words. This kept on happening.

He grimaced, glancing up at the women.

“I apologise,” he said, for what felt like the millionth time. “I don’t know where that came from.”

“Probably wherever you put all the other stuff you don’t want anyone knowing you feel,” Queenie replied.

Tina grimaced and looked down at her lap, fidgeting with her sheets.

Percival looked at her, guilt twisting at his face as surely as it was in his belly.

“Tina, I’m sorry. That was unfair of me to say.”

“No, it wasn’t, Sir,” Tina said. “And, now you have... I don’t think I ever said, but, I am sorry.”

Percival swallowed thickly and turned his attention briefly down to the sheets on his bed, before forcing himself to look back up at Tina.

“You don’t have to apologise,” he said. “I’m certain his act was convincing.”

“It was,” Tina replied, nodding. “But I do think I should apologise all the same. Because I am, sorry that is. I’m sorry that I didn’t realise you’d been replaced. There aren’t excuses for it. We all missed a trick there. He… he never did anything that was out of character-”

“Sending you to Wand Permits for stopping an assault was in character?” Percival muttered, sounding a bit more wounded than he’d wanted to.  

“Madam Picquerry played a part in the matter,” Tina muttered. “And it wasn’t, strictly, and unfair punishment. Even I admit it could have been handled better. I could have helped him better if I’d controlled myself more.”

She shook her head.

“But like I said, Madam Picquerry was involved so I was never sure who made what decision, so I tried not to hold it against you, well, _him_. He’d still listen when I had intel on the Second Salemers, encourage me to stick to my convictions, follow my gut. I realise now it was probably more a matter of trying to get information on the Obscurous. But I… you’ve always encouraged me to do the same, so I didn’t think it was odd. I felt like you were still on my side so I didn’t question it further.”

Percival pushed himself up, nodding his understanding as he listened to Tina’s side of the story. He hadn’t realised how much he needed to hear it, how much he needed to understand how this happened, how he’d been so easily replaced.

Tina swallowed thickly and continued.

“Looking back on it, he started to distance himself from us a bit. He stopped taking on cases with us, he took on cases of his own. We just figured they were important, that you were busy. It’s not an excuse but… that’s how it was.”

She bowed her head.

“I do wish we’d picked up on it sooner. We could have gotten to you earlier if we did.”

“Not if he slaughtered you all where you stood,” Percival uttered, rubbing roughly at his cheek.

Tina shrugged.

“It likely wouldn’t have worked out as neatly as it did in the end, no,” she agreed, before shaking her head. “I’m just saying, that, as well as me being sorry, it’s just important that you know that… The reason we couldn’t tell had nothing to do with you, as a boss or as a person. We screwed up, and he was convincing. We were all busy and you are always busier than anyone else. If you started taking on private missions, nobody was going to complain about the lack of extra work, or wonder why you were doing it.”

She grimaced and shook her head roughly.

“I’m making a mess of this,” she muttered. “I’m just trying to say, nobody thinks you’re secretly… you know, a mass murdering psychopath.”

Percival sighed deeply, running a hand tiredly over his face as he thought it all over. It made sense, he supposed. He’d already figured as much but hearing Tina’s account was a bit reassuring in a way. All the same, he couldn’t help but still feel rather rotten about it all.

“I just thought…” he muttered, before trailing off uncertainly. “That… you all knew me a bit better than that. I thought we were a bit of a closer knit team than it appears we are.

Tina glanced away, biting her lip.

“I mean, Morgana’s hat! He ordered an execution, of an auror, without trial! After one interrogation! And it didn’t cross anybody’s mind, ‘Hey, he usually wouldn’t do that… _ever!_ ’” he said, volume rising a bit with indignation

“Well, actually, I get the feeling that he did that because I was starting to catch on that something was off,” Tina replied, shaking her head. “And nobody else in the office knew. He said he’d tell Picquerry himself, not to breathe a word about it. Even then, Bernadette and Alice were acting very off as well. They’re professionals, they would have told someone that things seemed odd, that this wasn’t procedure, but they went along with it smiling.”

Percival paused, frowning.

“You think they were imperiused?” he asked.

“I think so,” Tina replied, nodding. “Newt knocked them both out during the escape. When I saw them next, they didn’t seem to remember much of what happened.

Percival thought that all over for a moment, before nodding.

“Well,” he uttered. “That’s one thing I guess."

He sighed and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought it all over. He tried to pinpoint what was still bothering him, hell, what was bothering him the most even. But he couldn’t. In spite of the new insight, in spite of genuinely feeling a bit reassured about some things, he still felt… Lost? Betrayed? Let down? He couldn’t place it.

“Uneasy,” Queenie said, out of nowhere. “That’s part of it.”

Percival blinked.

“Pardon?”

“You’re feeling uneasy,” Queenie said. “Because you’re still confused, and upset, and overwhelmed by it all, and you don’t completely understand it so you’re worried that it might happen again. That you’re not safe.”

Percival fell silent for a moment, his mouth going a little dry as he considered that, before acknowledging that it may well be a part of it.

“It won’t,” Queenie said.

“Yes, because I keep on getting locked up in interview rooms the second it looks like it might,” Percival muttered.

“No, not because of that,” Queenie replied. “Because you’re more connected now.”

Percival frowned.

“Sorry.”

“You’re connected,” Queenie said. “Tina and me, we know you better now. We know you like Quidditch over Quodpot. We know you know about Jacob, that you are covering for him. We know you wash plates before bowls and that you don’t sleep in beds very well anymore. That you take coffee with no sugar but tea with two and that you hold your fork funny.”

Percival faltered a little at that. He didn’t know what to feel about the woman’s comments, her insights into… him. Eventually he just settled for muttering, “I don’t hold my fork funny.”

“You do. You look like you’re trying to write with it,” Tina laughed, pressing a hand to her mouth. “Sorry.”

Queenie didn’t look quite as apologetic as she laughed and Percival found that he didn’t mind too much.

“My point,” she said. “Is that we know you better now. So if someone tried to stand in as you, they would have a much harder time about it. Because they’ll have to hold their fork wrong and wash their plates first, they’ll have to know they got dumped by a fiance in Denmark, and know that they’re staying with their sisters now, and wrinkle their nose when they’re sulking about it.”

Percival deliberately didn’t wrinkle his nose when he shot her a put upon look in response. But in spite of the teasing, to his absolute astonishment, he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit better.

“I suppose… you may have a point,” he eventually conceded.

Queenie smiled.

“Thank you,” she said, before walking around Tina’s bed and over to his, pausing a moment before pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re not alone in this, Mr Graves,” she said. “Not anymore. I know you’ve been hurt, I know you were hurt last night, trying to protect us too. But just know, you’ll never be hurt like that again. Nobody will be able to replace you, not when Tina and I am on the case. We’ll sniff them out right away.”

She smiled and patted his shoulder.

“We’re a team now,” she said, seemingly leaving no room for argument. And Percival didn’t. He found he didn’t even want to.

Queenie smiled a little wider before she stepped back. “Anyway,” she said. “I was listening to the healers this morning. They seem to think that you should both be alright eventually. I can see you are both restless, so, how about we stage a jailbreak? You two can get to the office and start the hunt off properly.”

A small smile started to work its way onto Percival’s face. He glanced over to Tina and found her equally agreeable to the idea.

Turning back to Queenie he smiled a little wider and nodded.

“I honestly couldn’t think of anything I’d like better,” he said.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope 2017 is treating you all kindly! Bit of an in between chapter this week but leading on to a lot more action soon. 
> 
> As always, thanks so much to everyone who commented, seriously you guys honestly do make my day every single time :D

### Chapter 10

 

It wasn’t until she’d almost reached the stairs that led down into the Auror’s office that Tina realised Mr Graves was no longer walking beside her.

She turned around, casting a confused gaze across the corridor, before spotting the man lingering by one of the windows. He was leaning against the stone wall it was set into, watching the world buzzing on down beneath them.

Tina frowned as she walked over to him. Anyone else would probably just think the man was lost in thought, or taking a moment to relax. But Tina spotted the tension in his shoulders, the paleness of his face, the clenched fist that was pressed firmly against his chest that was rising and falling a bit faster than it should.

She’d been an auror long enough to spot a panic attack when it was coming.

“Mr Graves,” she uttered, cautiously approaching him.

She had to stop herself from reaching out and offering some sort of physical comfort, this wouldn’t help here.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” she said.

“I do,” Graves replied, drawing in a deep breath through his nose as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the cool glass of the window.

“Mr Graves-”

“It’s not going to be any different a day from now, or a week,” he said, drawing in another deep breath, holding it a moment before letting it out and pushing off the window.

Tina frowned as she watched him visibly pulling himself back together. It was almost eerie, watching as each piece of the act slipped into place, how quickly his true emotions fell away and were replaced by a familiar neutrality. A straightening of his back, squaring of his shoulders, lifting of his head, and he looked a world away from the man who had just been moments away from a panic attack.

It was impressive. But panic attacks weren’t something you could just banish with sheer force of will. He had to be still feeling it, inside. And in spite of knowing that she couldn’t spot any outward sign of it. Not one.

Merlin’s beard, how did someone get that good at hiding all of their emotions?

She blinked, shaken from her thoughts when Graves cleared his throat, his dark brow raised.

“Tina?”

“Sorry, zoned out a bit there,” she said. “What did you say?”

“I said let’s go,” he replied, nodding to the stairs.

“Are you sure?” she asked warily.

“Yes,” he replied, nodding sharply as he pushed off the wall and lead the way over himself.

Tina sighed deeply, drawing in a calming breath herself before trailing after him and walking down into the bullpen of the aurors office.

By the time she reached it, the entire room had fallen uncomfortably silent, and every eye was fixed on Mr Graves.

Tina felt her own heart beginning to beat a little faster.  She had a terrible feeling about this. This wasn’t going to go smoothly. There was no way that this could end well.

“...Mr Graves, sir,” Simpson uttered, wide eyed as he got to his feet. “W-we didn’t think you’d be back. Today I mean. Everyone’s heard about last night. The latest attack.”

“Then I’m sure everyone understands that there’s no time to waste,” Graves replied calmly. e strode inside and over to the pinboards lining the opposite wall, displaying all their leads and lines of investigation they were following up. They were worryingly empty.

The silence in the room grew heavier as he looked over everything they had, before turning back to them all.

“Not much progress has been made in the search for Collins and Wilson I see,” he commented.

Apart from a few mumbled acknowledgements and the sound of shuffling feet, the room remained silent.

So the deep sigh Graves gave a moment later sounded almost deafening.

“Right,” he said, walking into the middle of the room and looking around at all of them. “You all have questions.”

Tina’s eyes widened. Oh she really hoped he wasn’t going to do what she thought he was going to do.

She cringed as he took out his pocket watch, nodding to himself and turning back to the room at large.

“For the next five minutes,” he said, voice filling the room, “You have a grace period to ask any question on your mind. Share any concern you have. Get it out in the open, and I will answer everything I can as honestly as possible. We all need to be on the same page if we’re going to move past all of this properly.”

Silence gave way to hushed whispers and muttering amongst the group.

Tina stood by the stairs, dread bubbling in the pit of her stomach as she looked on at her boss standing in the middle of the group, looking all the world like a man who’d been dropped in the middle of a lion's den and had accepted his fate.

Graves looked around, lifting his hands a little at his side.

“Well?” he prompted.

“People are saying Grindelwald buggered you, Boss,” Chambers, one of the junior aurors, called out almost immediately, like he’d been chomping at the bit to ask.

If looks could kill, Tina would have turned him to ashes already.

“Is it true?” he carried on. “Because if it isn’t, I say we hex the next person who says it into next week, to send out a message. Everyone needs to know what they’re gonna get if they go spreading rumours about our boss.

Tina sighed heavily, and turned back to Graves, who looked as calm as ever. She was coming to realise that didn’t necessarily mean too much.

All eyes turned back to him as soon as Chambers stopped talking.

Graves inclined his head.

“It’s true,” he replied.

Chambers nodded firmly, seemingly missing the quiet inhales of breath and muttering going on about him.

“Yeah, thought so. Like I said, I say we start by hexing someone’s mouth shut. Like grow their skin right over-”

“Chambers,” another of the juniors hissed, cutting him off. “He said it was true.”

Chambers faltered at that, glancing between the man standing beside him, then those around him, before finally back to Mr Graves.

“What?” he uttered.

“It’s true, he did,” Graves replied.

Chambers blinked, looking very much like his world was collapsing around him, perhaps it was. The young guys were always prone to a little hero worshipping of the senior aurors.

“You… but how?” he uttered. “Why?”

“Grindelwald’s a sadist, he will use any method he wishes to torment the people he’s set his sights on,” Graves replied calmly, almost reassuringly.

“Yes but how?” one of the older aurors, a man named Malcolm Hansen, called out with a degree of skepticism that made Tina want to grind her teeth.

Graves turned his attention to Hansen instead, arching his brow.

“How what, exactly?” he asked.

“How did he get to you?” Hansen asked, folding his arms over his broad chest. “The first attack, your home is supposed to have wards in place.”

“It does.”

“Then how?”

“If I had the answer to that it would be a complete waste of time having warlocks looking into the situation, wouldn’t it?” Graves replied.

“It’s besides the point anyway,” Tina sniffed, folding her arms over her chest. “ _My_ house has wards as well, and he managed to get past them.”

“Am I the only person spotting the common denominator here?” Hansen asked, looking around the room skeptically, the others muttering amongst themselves as he did.

“Are you suggesting that I’m letting him through?” Graves replied calmly, and a lot less surprised than Tina thought he should be.

“Well it’s the only explanation,” Hansen replied.

“The only obvious one, certainly.”

“So you admit it?”

“That it’s an obvious explanation, yes. That I am, in fact, letting a man into whatever location I’m in to attack me at his pleasure, no.”

“Perhaps it’s not intentional.”

“Perhaps?!” Tina growled, rage flooding through her. It was only Mr Graves raising a hand for calm that was keeping her from hexing that smug smirk right off of Malcolm Hansen’s face, and she didn’t particularly mind how much of his face she hexed off along with it either. The slimy git had always seen himself in Mr Graves’ office, everyone knew it, and he was trying to use this as a chance to get his foot in the door.

“I expect that if there was a spell of some sort cast upon me, the warlocks would have picked up on it when I was first brought to the Med Bay,” Graves replied cooly.

“Ah yes, after your _second_ meltdown that night,” Hansen replied, nodding. “We all heard about that too. The Director of Magical Security, screaming his head off in terror and having to be pinned to the bed and sedated to stop him from attacking his own people. It’s not a good look for our department, is it, _Boss_?”

“Who the hell do you think you are commenting on that,” another senior auror, Tobias Malik, snarled as he rose to his feet, fists clenched by his side. “ _You_ weren’t there at all that night.”

“I don’t see how that makes a difference.”

“It makes a difference,” Tina snapped, glaring at the man.

“Not to the rest of MACUSA,” Hansen replied with a smirk. “They’re not quite as sentimental about it as some of us seem to be. Neither is the rest of the wizarding community. When they hear that the the Head of Magical Security is having hysterical episodes where he lashes out as his own people, they begin to wonder what state the department is in. When they hear that he has been attacked in his own home, that he’s been _unmanned_ by another wizard,” he said, raising his voice as a number of the group raised their objections to the comment, “They begin to wonder whether this is the sort of person who should be in charge of such matters. I ask you, Mr Graves, which do you value more? The duties of this office, or your own ego?”

“Oh you’re a real man of the people aren’t you, Hansen!” Malik snarled furiously.

A few of the group had pulled their wands out in anger. A few more did so in response to them. Arguments started to break out around the bullpen. Fingers were poking chests, clenched fists shook in the air, feet stamped and desktops were thumped loudly.

The room was quickly beginning to divide and descend into utter chaos.

“ENOUGH!” Graves barked, eyes narrowed as he cast his gaze firmly around the group, daring any of them to challenge him in this and carry on fighting. Nobody did it seemed, and as quickly as the arguments had sprung up, they died.

Percival drew himself up to his full height, before turning his attention back to a rather smug looking Hansen.

“What you are talking about, Mr Hansen, is politics, and not a concern of this department. But I’ll answer your concerns regardless,” he said cooly.

“You’re right,” he said. “It’s not a good look and I’d wager that that is quite by design. You’re right, a few times since these incidents I’ve conducted myself in a manner that hasn’t benefited my image to those looking in from the outside. And you’re right, there are likely people in Congress and the community whose faith in me and this department has been shaken because of all of this. Just as it was shaken when it was discovered that _every single auror_ in this department hadn’t realised that their head had been replaced by the very same dark wizard they’ve been hunting for going on a year. That number includes you, Mr Hansen. Just as it was shaken when the second Salemers were calling for witch burnings. Just as it was shaken when my predecessor was murdered in his bed. Like I said, Mr Hansen, what you speak of is politics, and in politics the faith of the masses is a prize won and lost very easily. It is a fact of life, and one to be mindful of, but certainly not something we should bow to each and every time an incident occurs. If we were to do so, the turnover rate for Directors of _every_ department would be so dramatically short _nothing_ would get done, and believe me, that would obliterate people’s faith in the abilities of this department far more than the director being attacked. And rightly so.”

Hansen sneered at that, lifting his chin stubbornly.

“Spoken like a man who doesn’t want to concede the truth,” he said, before puffing out his chest. “Well I propose a vote,” he called.

The room started to fire up again, before falling dead silent when Graves unexpectedly replied with a cool, “I accept.”

“What?” Tina uttered, stepping forward.

“I accept, let’s put this to a vote,” Graves replied, nodding. “Right here, right now. There is clearly a degree of discontent in this office, and one way or another that needs to be resolved.”

Hansen looked like he’d been slapped. Clearly he’d expected Graves to refuse the challenge.

Thinking about it now, Tina realised that would have looked like an act of weakness on Graves’ part, which helped make a little sense of his decision to take on the suggestion. But it was still dangerous.

She turned her attention back to Graves when the man folded his coat over the back of the nearest chair before picking up a hat that had been left on that desk.

“Ms Cruz, may I borrow this?” he asked, picking it up and putting it in the middle of the room when the woman nodded her permission to do so.

“Everyone, please find a slip of parchment, cast a vote either _for_ or _against_ a change of director, and put your vote in the hat. Your votes will be anonymous, there will be no retribution of any sort no matter which way you choose,” he called. “Be honest. One way or another we need to resolve this.”

For a long moment, nobody moved. Tina herself was staring at him with, no doubt, a look of abject horror on her face. Was he trying to lose his job?! She knew he didn’t want to. The whole week he’d been going out of his mind not being allowed to work. But this, a vote, a _blind_ vote. This was a huge gamble and could very well be the end of his career. She could understand the logic behind it but Mercy Lewis, this was dangerous.

Graves cleared his throat pointedly, and like a spell had been lifted, everyone in the room started moving to their desks, some quickly, some slowly.

Tina was one of the quicker ones, dashing to her desk and scribbling hastily on a ripped off corner of parchment _‘AGAINST!!’_.

It took a couple of minutes for everyone to cast their votes, and when they did Graves passed the hat over to Cruz.

“Would you mind?” he asked.

“Of course, Boss,” she uttered, taking the hat and carefully retrieving the results, unfolding them and sorting them into neat stacks.

For the minute it took her to count the votes, nobody in the room spoke, not even Hansen, who had sparked it all.

Cruz eventually looked up, and announced, “11 votes against a change of director, 7 votes for.”

Graves arched his brow, nodding as he turned back to a very sour looking Hansen. “Satisfied?”

“This proves nothing.”

“It was your idea,” Graves scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “If you can’t bring yourself to work for this department with me as director, you’re welcome to put in for a transfer or hand in your resignation. That goes for everyone who voted _for_. I’m not going to start a hunt, but if you’re not comfortable working here, if you can’t bring yourself to answer to me, alternative arrangements must be made.”

Hansen sniffed a little at that, shooting a disbelieving glares at a few people in the room, before stepping forward and levelling off with the other man.

Tina marvelled how Graves managed to tower over a man who was at least a head taller than him but he did somehow.

Hansen scoffed, shaking his head before stepping back and taking out his wand.

Tina’s hand flew to hers when he did, as did quite a few other people. But he just waved it at his desk, which packed itself away into his briefcase before flying to his hand.

“You’re not going to come back from this, Graves,” Hansen sneered.

“We’ll see,” Graves replied calmly, holding the other man’s eye a moment longer before Hansen spun on his heel and stalked out of the room.

He shook his head before turning to the rest of the room. “I apologise for that,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets “Anymore questions?”

The room was silent for a moment longer, before Malik spoke up.

“Has he said why he’s gunning for you like this, Sir?” he asked, frowning.

Graves shook his head.

“The closest he’s come to answering that is calling it a hobby of sorts, but I think there’s something more to it,” he said with a shrug. “I’d be damned if I knew what though.”

“So you don’t know what he’s planning?”

“I’m afraid not. Though I’m sure his fantasy of a world order where magical people reign supreme over the no-maj’s is wrapped up in there somewhere.”

“So… we don’t know why he’s after you. We don’t know what he’s up to. We don’t know where he is. And we don’t know where he’s keeping Collins and Wilson,” Chambers uttered, sitting down heavily at his desk. “What hope do we have?”

“All the hope in the world,” Graves replied calmly.

Once again, all the eyes in the room turned to him.

“Don’t lose hope, whatever you do,” he said, looking around at all of them in turn. “We will get through this and beat him.”

“Will we though?” Cruz laughed humorlessly.

The corner of Graves’ lips twitched up at, as if something about the question had amused him. He inclined his head once more.

“Of course,” he replied. “What choice have we got?”

He drew himself up to his full height.

“You’re all breathing, aren’t you?” he said, arching his brow. “There is nothing that you can’t get through as long as you keep breathing. We will get through this. We will grow from it. Become stronger. And we will make Gellert Grindelwald, and every single witch or wizard who counts themselves as his follower, bitterly regret the day that they decided that coming to our home with plots of revolution was a good idea.”

Tina smiled a little as the group began to stir, a little more hopefully this time around.

Graves nodded firmly, before drawing in a breath.

“We’ll start,” he said, “By finding Collins and Wilson. What progress have you made in the past week?”

Malik stepped forward.

“We’ve gone to all of our informants. They know nothing.”

“Do you expect any of them are lying?”

“Well, with some of them it’s hard to tell.”

“I know. All the same, compile a list of the one’s you don’t trust. And a list of the ones you couldn’t find.”

“How did you-”

“There are always ones that go to ground in times of trouble. They can serve as something of a breadcrumb for which path of investigation we need to take,” Graves replied. “I’ll also put together a list of my contacts that I want you to follow up on. What about Gnarlak?”

“He’s not co-operating with us lately.”

“Then lean on him,” Percival replied, frowning thoughtfully. “We haven’t got time for the ‘Bad for business’ approach. Goldstein, you come with me and we’ll confront him in person.”

“Sir," Tina replied, nodding.

“Simpson, I want you to send out memos to the heads of every satellite office in the country. I want a floo meeting with each of them starting from tomorrow morning. Stagger each an hour apart. And make sure you use the parchment with the President’s letterhead, otherwise they start thinking it’s an optional invitation.”

“Boss,” Simpson uttered, nodding.

“That boy we picked up with his friends for assaulting No-Maj’s a few months back.”

“The centipede lot?” Malik asked, grimacing at the memory of that little _joke_.

“That’s right. Find him, scare him,” Percival replied, nodding. “He seems the type of bullying twerp to be swayed by Grindelwald’s promises. And stupid enough to lead us right to him, or at least some of his followers.”

“And if he’s not involved?”

“He hexed innocent people together purely to humiliate them and got away with it. If he’s not involved I won’t lose sleep over scaring him regardless,” Graves replied with a shrug, before clapping his hands together. “As for right now. Goldstein, you’ve got an hour to write a report on last night’s incident while it’s still fresh in mind. All of the aurors that responded, if you’ve not finished yours already do so now. Get the red tape out of the way so we can get down to business. Simpson, send out those memos. Everyone who’s not got a report to work on, get started on those lists. We’re regrouping in one hour and setting out courses of action. Everyone clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then get to work,” he said, taking his coat off the chair and making his way down to his office.

Tina let out a deep breath as soon as she heard the door clicking shut behind him. She looked across the room which was abuzz with activity and a sense of purpose she suspected had been lacking for the past week.

She shook her head before sitting down at her desk and grabbing some parchment. She had absolutely no idea how the man managed to pull that one off.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooooooooooooooooo sorry for taking so long to update this guys. This chapter gave me a tonne of trouble and I had an onslaught of real life distractions :/ Sorry all.  
> But hopefully you all enjoy this and, I say this every time, but hopefully new chapter will be up soon XD
> 
> As always, thank you so, sooooo much to everyone who took the time out of their days to comment and share your thoughts with me. Each and every one of you really light up my day!!
> 
> Thanks and apologies again :)
> 
> ALSO: for those interested, my Tumblr's: qed221b.tumblr.com  
> I'll try and post updates on the story if it's going to be a while again (and, you know, I do art and stuff over there if you're interested XD)
> 
> Cheers again

Magnus Graves’ desk had always been a source of great fascination to his son. 

Percival himself wasn’t too sure what the root of it all was. It was a very handsome piece of furniture, certainly, but nothing innately special. His father had sworn to him that there was nothing magical about it. 

“It’s just a desk, son.”

And yet Percival couldn’t help but wonder. 

Why was it then, whenever he caught a glimpse of his father sitting behind it, whether it be pouring over paperwork, discussing cases with colleagues, or merely reading the paper with coffee, he always looked that much more powerful. That much stronger. That much braver. And that was saying a lot, considering the man was practically 10 foot tall in his son’s eyes at any other time.

There had to be something special about it. There just had to be. 

Percival wasn’t allowed to touch it of course. He was forbidden from stepping foot inside the room without his father present. Whatever house they lived in, that rule remained consistent. 

But contrary to what many would have expected of him, Percival Graves had always been a painfully curious child. And on that particular night, it wasn’t just curiousity assaulting his common sense, but fear too. 

He’d be going to school soon. Real soon. And he wasn’t ready. Not at all. He wasn’t tall enough yet! Or tough enough. He’d just gotten his wand and it was too big for him, even if his father and Mr Jonker said he’d grow into it. He looked silly, people were going to make fun of him! He didn’t make friends well either. And what if he was stupid and did bad in classes? What if the teachers didn’t like him? What if they kicked him out because he wasn’t good enough for Illvermorny? What if his parents wouldn’t take him back because he wasn’t good enough for their family? He wasn’t ready! He wasn’t brave enough yet!

With those types of thoughts rattling about in his mind, he pulled on his thickest socks (to muffle his footsteps) before slipping out of his room in the dead of night. He crept down the hall, taking particular care as he passed his parent’s bedroom, before coming to a stop in front of his father’s study. 

Before he could psych himself out of his mission, he drew in a deep breath for courage, pushed the door open, and slipped inside. 

The curtains were open and the pale blue light of the moon flooded in, lighting up the room beautifully. Percival only had eyes for the grand desk standing proudly at the end of it. 

Biting his lip, he drew in another breath, before padding over to it. He reached out, brushing the tips of his fingers reverently over the smooth, dark wood, tracing the decorative carvings etched into its sides. 

He made his way around and heaved himself up onto his father’s chair. 

He had to sit on his knees to see properly over the tabletop. 

Scooting the chair closer to the desk, he folded his hands on top, and paused. Waiting. Hoping. 

Nothing happened. 

Chewing on his lip, he leaned down, until the tip of his nose brushed against the leather inlay.

“Come on. Help me,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut. “ _ Please _ .”

“What are you doing?”

Percival very nearly knocked himself out, he startled so badly at the deep, horribly familiar voice came from the shadows of the room. 

“Father!” he gasped, eyes wide as he tried to spot the man in the dark. He’d been caught, in the act of doing the one thing he was never allowed to do (as well as being quite silly, he realised now). 

He bit his lip as his father stepped into the light streaming through the window. 

“What are you doing, Percival?” the man asked again. 

“I….” Percival trailed off, his hands clenching the material of his trousers. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“You know you’re not allowed in here,” his father said sternly as he walked over. 

Percival cringed, nodding, his eyes fixed on his knees. 

“Yes, Sir,” he uttered. “I know.”

“You’ve not answered my question,” his father said, now standing in front of him. “What are you doing in here.”

“I just… I… wanted to try something,” he said, his voice almost a whisper at this point. “The desk-”

His father sighed deeply at that, shaking his head as Percival cringed, embarrassed and ashamed. 

“Percival, it’s just a desk,” his father said. 

“I know,” Percival uttered, horrified when his voice started to crack and squeak in a rather telling manner. “I just… wanted to try anyway. I thought… if it did… maybe it would help me be more like you.”

“You thought sitting at my desk will make you an auror?” his father drawled. 

Percival shook his head. 

“Braver,” he uttered. “I thought… hoped, it would make me braver. Like you.”

His father sighed again. 

He’d been expecting a scolding, a clip around the ear perhaps, for breaking the rules on purpose. So the hand that came to rest on his shoulder came as a bit of a surprise really. It was nothing compared to his father crouching down in front of him though, forcing him to meet his eye. 

“Why do you need to be braver, Percival?” he asked calmly, his thick, dark brows rising with bemusement.

Percival took a moment to try and compose himself, but he could feel his lip wobbling and eyes stinging in spite of himself. 

Staring back down at his knees he shrugged. 

“I dunno.”

“Percival.”

“...I don’t... think I’m ready to go to school,” Percival whispered, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt his chest clench tightly and his lip begin to tremble more. “I’m not ready,” he gasped, shaking his head firmly. “I’m not. I-I’m scared, Pa. I-”

Whatever embarrassing noises he made after that point were, fortunately, muffled by his father’s shoulder as he was quickly swept into a firm hug. His father wasn’t a particularly touchy-feely sort so he relished the comfort as it was offered, holding on tight and trying his very best to pull himself back together. 

“Oh my son,” his father had sighed, rubbing his bony back. “My dear boy, you’re going to be alright. You will. You’re more than ready.”

Percival sniffed, rubbing roughly at his face. 

“You think so?” he asked. 

“Without a doubt,” his father replied, pulling back a little so he could look at him properly. 

“You’re already so strong, my boy. So brave. And you keep on getting more brave and strong by the day. You don’t need anything to speed that along, even if this desk was magical, which it  _ isn’t _ .”

A pink blush flushed across the boy’s cheeks at that small reprimand. 

He ducked his head and muttered, “I know that now.”

He shot the desk a slightly betrayed glare, before turning his attention back to his father when the man laughed. 

“You are going to be fine, Percival,” he said, brushing his hair out of his slightly sticky face. “You really will. You’re going places, my boy. And you’ll get there far sooner than anyone will expect. You’re going to be so brave, so good. You’ll be the pride of MACUSA, I’m sure of it. Before you know it you’ll have a big desk and office of your own, you’ll have earned it all by yourself, and  _ that _ will be what makes it magical I say.”

He paused, before shrugging his broad shoulders. 

“Perhaps you were onto something after all.”

Percival bit his lip, a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips. 

“You think so?” he whispered. 

“I do,” his father said with a warm smile and he brought a hand up to cup his son’s cheek. “And no matter what, you just know, in your heart of hearts, your mother and I are so proud of you. We’ll always be so proud of you.”

Percival Graves, 28 years older (though it did feel  _ so _ much more than that) heaved a deep sigh as he brushed the tips of his fingers over the polished, ebony desk, so much like the one that once stood proudly in his father’s study. 

He paused a moment, before leaning forward until his forehead was resting against the cool, hard tabletop. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for all of this after all, Pa,” he whispered. “I really don’t.”

He flinched as a knock at the door echoed around the rather bare room. 

Clearing his throat he sat up properly, ran a hand through his hair before calling, “Yes?”

“Just me, Mr Graves,” Tina said, popping her head in through the door. “The others are ready for our briefing when you are, Sir.”

Percival nodded firmly. 

“Very good,” he said, getting to his feet. “Give me a moment and I’ll be out.”

“Yes, Sir,” Tina said, nodding before stepping back out into the main office, shutting the door behind her. 

Percival drew in a deep breath for courage and carefully smoothed out any creases in his waistcoat or trousers. 

He grimaced as nausea bubbled up at the thought of going out there, facing his team (a good portion of whom didn’t have confidence in his ability to lead it seemed). On top of that, he could taste Grindelwald in his mouth again. And when he thought about that he remembered it, the feeling of the other man forcing his jaw open, fingers pressing down on the back of his tongue, the feeling of his-

He punched himself in the thigh hard, letting the pain center him. He couldn’t fall apart now. Not now. There was work to be done. His aurors needed to be found. Now. Not after he was done feeling sorry for himself. 

Shaking his head roughly he stepped over to one of the cupboards lining the walls of his office and pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey. He poured himself a finger of the drink and promptly knocked it back, letting the strong taste, the burn, wipe away the bad taste (real or imagined) from his mouth.

“Right,” he muttered, smoothing out the last wrinkles in his clothes. “Pull yourself together. You’re a grown man, not a child.”

He drew in a deep breath, raked a hand through his hair, nodded firmly and strode purposefully out of his office. 

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

\---

They apparated into the alley across the road from the Blind Pig. Percival smiled slightly when he spotted the grimace on Tina’s face.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Tina startled a little, before nodding.

“Yes, Sir,” she said. “I just hope we manage to get something useful out of him.”

“You and me both,” Percival replied with a nod. “Just leave it to me. You focus on being as ominous a presence as you can be. I’ll deal with Gnarlak.”

Tina grinned a little at that and nodded firmly, hopping on the spot readily as she focused on her task. Percival scoffed softly as he pulled out his wand, she looked like she was getting ready for a quidditch match. 

“Ready?” he asked. 

“When you are, Sir,” Tina replied. 

Nodding back, he drew in a deep breath before the two of them apparated straight into the middle of the Blind Pig. 

The entire club seemed to freeze for a moment, before patrons around the room blinked out of sight with various pops and cracks. 

This, of course, was the exact result they were after. Nothing got Gnarlak’s attention better than bad business after all (other than a good deal, that is).

Sure enough the goblin was out of the back rooms within moments of their arrival, smouldering cigar bobbing in the corner of his mouth as he scanned the room, before spotting them. The corner of Grave’s lips twitched a little when he spotted the new bend in their informant’s pointed nose. It seems Jacob hadn’t been boasting about knocking him right in the face. 

“Ah, Mr Graves,” Gnarlak said, as he made his way over. “Nice to see you up and about. I got a bit worried after hearing you’d been attacked,  _ again _ .”

It was a clear dig, an attempt to wind him up, and Percival didn’t pay it too much mind. Instead he inclined his head at him, before sitting down at one of the vacant tables (before Gnarlak offered him a seat or had sat himself) and made himself at home. A display of control over the situation, that ought to set the tone for the meeting.

“It’s nice to know you care, Gnarlak,” he drawled, taking the glass of firewhiskey that had been abandoned at the table and knocking it back. Another small display of control that the goblin before him definitely picked up on, if the twitch of his bent nose was anything to go by. 

“No need to worry though,” he drawled, smiling placidly. “I’m back now.”

“I see that,” Gnarlak said as he sat at the table, waving at the house elf manning the bar for a drink of his own. 

“I’m sure you can work out why I’m here,” Percival said calmly, but there was a steel behind his words that made it clear that idle chat time was over. 

“Free information I expect,” Gnarlak retorted. 

“Is it free though?” Graves asked cooly, not bothering this time to hide his irritation with the goblin sitting across from him. “I was under the impression that it was information bought and paid for by a good deal of turning of heads on our part.”

He arched his brow, lounging back in his chair.

“Of course, I could be wrong,” he said, shrugging. “Please correct me if I am. I should really stop turning my head if so.”

Gnarlak’s lips curled a little at that, into something crossed between a smile and baring of teeth. 

“It’s good to have you back, Director,” he drawled, shaking his head as he took the drink the house elf handed him. “But I aint got nothing to tell you about your missing aurors.”

“I’m sure you’ve got  _ something _ to tell me though?” Percival drawled, leaning forward and folding his arms on the table.

“What makes you so sure?”

“Your reluctance to sell me useless information for a start,” Graves replied. 

The goblin scoffed at that. 

“Gnarlak,” Graves said, his voice growing colder, harder, infinitely more dangerous as his hand curled into a fist on the table. “I want you to reflect on the situation at present. I have had a very,  _ very _ unpleasant year. The man solely responsible for that is on the loose and now has two of my people in his captivity. That frustrates me. Do you really want to be the one to stand in the way of of my finding them.”

He leaned back in his seat, eyes fixed on the goblin’s beady, black ones as the temperature of the room seemed to drop a few degrees around them.

“I’ve had enough of the pleasantries. This is your final warning. Tell me everything that you know,  _ everything _ , otherwise I promise you right now, I will re-dedicate all of my efforts to making your life very,  _ very _ unpleasant until you do.”

Gnarlak held his gaze stubbornly for a long moment. Percival did not look away, did not blink. Finally the goblin scoffed, shaking his head slowly. 

“I don’t know where your people are,” he said. “But I have heard a few things. There’s a fella over in Queens. Name’s David Daniels, you lot have probably heard of him, one of those ne'er do wells.”

Percival  _ had _ heard of him actually. They’d brought him in a few times for intimidating and harassing No-Maj’s. Someone was looking out for him though, they never did manage to make anything stick.

“What about him?” he asked. 

“He’s been around here a few times. Bit of a mouthy fella, particularly when he’s got a drink in him. Been talking some big game, about sticking it to MACUSA, putting the No-Maj’s in their place. Rings a few bells, don’t it.”

“It does indeed,” Percival muttered, before nodding sharply. “Thank you for the heads up, Gnarlak. Next time, if we can avoid my having to come down here and ask for your cooperation in person, that would be lovely.”

“But how would I ever get to see you then, Mr Graves,” Gnarlak drawled, smiling nastily. 

Percival scoffed, shaking his head as he got to his feet, pulling his coat back on. 

“You know how to get in touch if you hear anything I might be interested in,” he said, giving the goblin a pointed look before nodding sharply to Tina, the two of them heading towards the door. 

“You’re picking battles that you’re probably not going to win, Mr Graves,” Gnarlak called after them, leaning back in his chair as he lit a new cigar with a click of his misshapen fingers. 

Percival turned back around, shooting an amused smirk over his shoulder. 

“Perhaps,” he said. “But then it’s not necessarily the battles that matter in the end, is it?” he said, before leading the way back out once again. 

“So, Queens then?” Tina asked, wrapping her coat a little tighter around herself when they stepped out into the alley and were instantly hit by the cold, winter wind whipping up around them. 

Graves hummed, frowning thoughtfully as he too adjusted his scarf a little tighter around his neck.

“What is it?” Tina asked, frowning with concern. 

Percival waved a hand, hoping to put her mind at ease. 

“I’m just deciding whether we should call for backup or not,” he replied calmly. 

Tina’s brows furrowed even more at that. She was confused he realised. 

“Why?” she asked. “Two aurors for one man. That’s pretty standard practice.”

“Yes, but you were hit by an unforgivable last night, Tina,” Percival pointed out. 

Indignation flashed across Tina’s face at that and he realised he, perhaps, could have worded it a bit less accusatorily. 

“I wasn’t the only one, Mr Graves,” she huffed, lifting her chin stubbornly. 

Percival inclined his head in acknowledgment of that. 

“I’m not denying that,” he said. “I’m more used to it than you are though.”

Tina still didn’t look convinced. In fact she looked concerned. He realised too late that perhaps reasoning that you’d been hit by unforgivables so many times that you’ve grown used to the after effects probably wasn’t the best way to set someone’s mind at ease. Particularly someone who, for whatever reason, seemed to care about his wellbeing. 

“Look, I’m just saying it needs to be taken into consideration,” he said, before turning to face Tina properly. “I know I’m up for it. Are you confident that you are too? If so, we’ll go without backup. But if you’re feeling a bit off your peak, then I’d much rather us call in help than risk something much worse.”

“I’m good to go,” Tina insisted, nodding firmly. “I feel fine. I didn’t last night, but I took my potions and rested up and now I’m fine. I can do this!”

Percival eyed her carefully for a moment longer, before deciding that she wasn’t letting her pride get the better of her. 

“Alright then,” he said, pulling his coat a little tighter around himself as he drew in a lungful of crisp, winter air. “If you’re sure we’ll follow normal procedure.”

Tina nodded firmly in response. 

“Yes sir.”

Percival hummed. 

“Alright, to Queens,” he said. “Have you had interactions with Daniels before?”

“None in particular, Sir,” Tina replied. 

Percival nodded and offered her his arm for her to side along. The less time they wasted the better. 

Tina seemed to be of the same mind, as she gripped his wrist firmly without any argument. A second later, they were standing in front of a rather classy looking set of apartments. 

“This isn’t exactly the place I’d expect a delinquent to live,’ Tina muttered, looking up at the buildings with furrowed brows. 

Percival scoffed, shaking his head as he pulled his wand from his belt. 

“Oh, David Daniels is very much one of the ‘Daddy’s little boy can do no wrong’ type of criminal,” Graves replied. “Wealthy family.”

Tina wrinkled her nose. 

“Ah, one of those.”

Percival couldn’t help but chuckle again at her distaste, before turning solemn.

“Yes. That said, we go in there expecting the worst, alright?” he said firmly. “If he really has thrown his lot in with Grindelwald, there’s a good chance that he’s a lot more dangerous now than he has been in the past. After all, he’s a suspect in the abduction of two of our own.”

Tina nodded her understanding as she too pulled out her wand, her face grave and focused. 

“Got it, Sir,” she said as they walked across the road. “How are we going to do this. Shock and awe or Swift and Silent.”

“Let’s aim for Swift and Silent, but resort to Shock and Awe if it comes to that,” he replied said as they slipped through a gap between the townhouses and made their way to the back of the building. It didn’t take him too long to undo the wards and locks that had been put on the other man’s door. Grindelwald himself wasn’t staying her at least, surely he’d take far greater precautions than this. 

The door unlocked with a dull click. 

“Right,” he muttered, glancing over his shoulder at Tina who was eyeing the door intently. “I’ll take point. Watch your back, there could be traps,” he uttered, nodding to her before easing open the door and stepping inside. They both kept their footsteps slow and light. 

Percival focused on keeping his breathing steady as they creeped down the hall, taking a moment to clear each room they came across as they did. You couldn’t help your body going into hyper awareness during a raid, you couldn’t help the adrenaline pumping through your body or your heart pumping hard in your chest, but you could and must control your breathing. 

They were halfways through the bottom level of the townhouse, without any sign of Daniels to be found, when he picked up on a faint rustle of clothing above them. He was just able to yank Tina back and out of the way from  _ expulso _ curse that shot straight down to where she’d been standing watch in the hall a second before. 

She recovered a second later and shot a flurry of spells in response as she and Percival dashed over to the stairs, finding  Daniels crouched on the bottom landing, eyes blown wide and teeth bared as he slashed and stabbed his wand furiously at the both of them. 

“Daniels, stop this!” Percival called as he blocked the spells as they came. “You’re not in too deep yet. Come with us and we can help you-”

“I don’t need your help!” Daniels snarled. “You’re traitors to our kind! The both of you! I’d never throw my lot in with you!”

“But you’d throw it in with murderers and tyrants.”

Daniels laughed. 

“You really have no idea how big a hypocrite you are, do you, Director?” he snickered, wand raised and pointed at Percival’s face. “MACUSA has been oppressing our kind since its formation, and since it’s formation your family has been taking part in that.”

“And you’re going to fix it all are you?” Percival asked, waiting for an opening, for the boy to slip up, to lose his temper. “You and your little friends. Grindelwald mustn’t be as powerful as we’d thought.”

“You take that back,” Daniels snarled, face going pale with rage. 

“I won’t. I mean look at this,” he said, waving at Daniels himself. “He’s really scraping the bottom of the barrel in regards to recruit-”

“AVADA KEDAV-”

“EXPELLIARMUS!” Tina bellowed as Graves shot a stunning spell up the stairs at the exact same time, catching the younger man square in the chest as his wand clattered down the steps.

Percival grimaced, keeping his wand trained on him as he carefully climbed the stairs. 

“That’s not going to help with getting answers,” he sighed, shaking his head as he kicked Daniel’s wand away and crouched down to check him over.

“I’m sorry, Mr Graves. He was going to kill-”

“No, there’s no need to apologise, you acted appropriately,” Percival replied, shaking his head as, with a wave of his hand, rope bound Daniel’s hands tight behind his back. “I’m the one who stunned him anyway.”

He rubbed the back of his head before turning to Tina. 

“Go and summon some medics, I’m going to clear the rest of the house,” he instructed, looking around the room. It looked empty, but they needed to be sure before they brought others in. He got to his feet as Tina set about doing that.

Sure enough, the rest of the townhouse was empty.

“Medics will be here in a moment, Mr Graves,” Tina said as he walked back over.

“Thank you, Tina,” he muttered, looking around the room. 

It didn’t appear that different from what most 20 year old’s homes looked. A bit cluttered, not as well kept as it could be, a bit mismatched, but relatively normal. He frowned slightly when his eyes fell on the laborers jumpsuit that had been tossed haphazardly over the back of one of the armchairs. 

“Tina,” he called as he walked over to inspect it. “Could you check his hands for me?” 

He took the jumpsuit, giving it a quick sniff, his nose wrinkling at the rancid smell that clung to it. It had been used then, for its intended purpose, or at least in its intended location. 

“What am I looking for, Sir?” Tina asked as she inspected Daniel’s hands. 

“Calluses? Cuts? Burns? Redness? Any irregularities really.”

“None of that, Sir,” Tina said, shaking her head. “He’s got a couple wand calluses, but that’s normal. Otherwise he’s hands are pretty soft actually.”

Percival hummed, before walking back over to the landing and holding out the jumpsuit for Tina to look at. 

“Then what is he doing with this, I wonder?” he asked. 

Tina frowned. 

“You sure it’s his?”

“It’s the right size,” Percival replied, glancing back over to the armchair and finding a pair of boots kicked off beside it. “I’d wager the boots are too. And nobody else seems to live here.”

Tina nodded. 

“So we’ve got a guy who doesn’t work with his hands, visiting a factory of sorts disguised as a laborer,” she said, frowning thoughtfully. “Seems to me that our best chance of getting answers is to figure out where that factory is.”

Percival smile a little at that and nodded as the medics rushed up the stairs a second later and took over custody of Daniels. 

“I was thinking much the same myself.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo incredibly sorry for the massive delay man, I got hit pretty badly by both real life nonsense and writer's block. Hope you like this latest bit though and, as always, I'll try to update much quicker next time. 
> 
> Thanks for being so patient with me guys, and as always, thank you soooooo much to everyone who commented. You guys are the absolute best!!

The healers came and went, taking Daniels with them. He wasn’t in a great way. It seemed like his spell had misfired when Tina disarmed him. It must have been pretty weak to begin with. It likely wouldn’t have actually killed Percival if it had hit him. But that, along with the stunner to the chest seemed to be enough to alarm the healers, who’d informed them, in no uncertain terms, that they’d be waiting until he was stable to ask any questions or retrieve any memories.

Unfortunately that left them with just the evidence the flat had to offer, and beyond the labourers coveralls and boots, that wasn’t too much at all.

“Nothing in the bedroom eith- Boss! Would you stop smelling those?” Tina groaned as she walked back into the living room. “It’s disgusting.”

Percival rolled his eyes.

“Thank you for that insight,” he drawled, before going back to studying the mucky coveralls in his hands once again.

“Why do you keep doing it then?” Tina said, pulling quite the face as she walked over, giving the coveralls and experimental sniff herself, before gagging. “I can’t even tell what it is.”

“Nor can I,” Percival murmured, frowning thoughtfully as he sniffed the frayed bottoms of the trousers, where the muck was thickest. He grimaced at the stench, shaking his head roughly. “And yet I definitely recognise it from somewhere.”

“You do?” Tina asked, surprised. “Where from?”

“That’s the issue, I can’t place it,” Percival muttered, screwing his eyes shut as he dragged in another whiff of the unpleasant stench from the mud. He could feel a shiver running down his spine, his stomach rolling horribly inside him, but he couldn’t recall the memory itself.

“It’s similar to the trenches, on bad days. Hot days,” he muttered, shuddering at the memory, before shaking his head. “But it’s not that.”

He grimaced, putting the coveralls back down.

“I don’t recognize it at all,” Tina muttered, frowning as she looked down at the clothing herself. “I’d not think that it’s the sort of stink you’d forget.”

“Unless it’s connected to something unpleasant enough for your mind to block the memory out entirely,” Percival sighed, finding himself feeling very tired.

He’d just started to get his head back together, particularly after the talk with Tina and Queenie that morning, and after sorting things out with his department. He was feeling a bit more surefooted, he had direction, he had a clearer idea of what had gone wrong that had lead to all of this too.

Now he was going to have to undo all of it by opening up a fresh wound..

“Do you think it’s to do with Grindelwald?” Tina asked, frowning thoughtfully.

“I expect so,” he muttered, before drawing in a deep breath and standing up properly. “Regardless, it could lead to us having some better direction.”

“If there wasn’t a block,” Tina commented, nodding.

“There are way’s to get past a mental block,” Percival replied simply, folding the coveralls up neatly.”

Tina’s eyes widened at that.

“No!” she gasped.

“It’s not your decision to make, Tina,” he said calmly, stronger than he felt to be honest. He glared down at his trembling hands.

“You can’t- Mr Graves, you have to know what can happen to people when memories are forcibly removed from them.”

Percival arched his brow pointedly, looking over at Tina in disbelief. Of course he bloody knew, did she really think that Grindelwald had gotten his information by asking nicely, or roughing him up. He’d die before he deliberately betrayed the trust MACUSA, the people of his country had put in him. Oh yes, he knew the feeling of someone forcing their way in his mind, clawing through it like a rabid animal, taking what they like and leaving a path of destruction behind.

Tina seemed cowed by the look, her cheeks flushing red as she looked down at the floor.

“It needs to be done,” Percival said after a moment. “If it gets us closer to finding Wilson and Collins, then we need to take every measure we can. I’ve potentially got a big clue hidden in my head, I don’t have a choice but to retrieve it. No matter how painful.”

“What about Daniels? Can’t we take the memories from him instead.”

“Of course we’ll check if he’s stable. But if he’s not we’ll not be able to force our way to him. The healers will rebel. They take their oaths to their patients seriously, regardless of the patient and external circumstances. You know this,” he said. “Before you know it there will be headlines about aurors torturing confessions out of citizens. That will turn public opinion against us and work in Grindelwald’s favour.”

Tina blinked, before nodding slowly. “I suppose,” she muttered. “But still, Mr Graves, this- there has to be another option.”

“Not one that’s as time-effective I expect,” Percival muttered.

Tina chewed on her lip for a little, looking very much like she’d like to argue further. A week ago, she’d never have thought to do so, to question him like this. And he found he couldn’t even be all that annoyed with her because she was doing it out of concern for him. There lied the problem unfortunately. The lines between their professional relationship and the arrangement that they, along with Queenie, had developed, seemed to be blurring quite significantly. And though, surprised as he was by it, he found he didn’t mind the thought of their other arrangement, of being their _brother from Denmark_ at home, in the field this really couldn’t be allowed.

“Tina,” he said firmly, drawing himself up to his full height. “The decisions been made. Now come on. We do not have the luxury of wasting time.”

He placed the boots on top of the folded up coveralls lifted the stack from the table, before moving to lead the way back downstair, only to freeze when someone (Tina, of course it was Tina) caught his arm.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the sudden pounding of his heart and the flash of frustration that washed over him because of it, as he turned to face her.

“Let me come with you at least,” she said, eyes wide and earnest. “You shouldn’t go through this alone, again. We’re a team now, remember?”

Percival grimaced. He sorely wanted to say no. He did not want to be seen in the state that he was sure he’d end up in, as another mind broke its way into his own. But if he denied her he knew two things for sure: in all likelihood she’d sneak in regardless; and that would only be after arguing the point a good deal more, costing them more time.

On top of that... the thought of having someone there to observe, to… watch his back as it were, while he was vulnerable to attack, it did help him feel a little braver about the whole thing. It’s not that he thought there was a danger of his getting taken advantage on in such a state was a risk, not at MACUSA, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but consider it a possibility after everything that had happened.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose before nodding.

“Very well,” he muttered, before turning sternly to her. “You’ll just be observing.”

“Moral support,” Tina agreed, holding up her hand like she was taking a sworn oath. “That’s all I’ll be.”

Percival nodded again.

“Fine then,” he sighed. “Come on, we’re wasting time.”

* * *

Tina knew it wasn’t going to be pleasant, but this exceeded her expectations by far.

Neither Graves or the old legilimens, Mr Falco, had made any noise. But Percival had gone white as a sheet and was trembling something terrible. This had been going on for almost 15 minutes.

She didn’t regret insisting that she come along, lend moral support. She wasn’t sure how much good it was doing but it was the least she could do. She just wished there was more, something actually useful, she could occupy herself with. Just standing there, watching it all happen, it made her feel absolutely useless. But she had no choice. She’d been told, firmly, to stay where she was, say nothing, do nothing, otherwise she’ll interfere with the procedure and it will be all for nought. She knew this, but that didn’t make it any easier.

She jumped when both men let out shuddering gasps, like drowning men breaking the surface of the water. Mr Falco, surprisingly nimble for his age, merely rocked back on his haunches, face a little sweaty and pale, but otherwise not too affected. Percival however, who’d been on his knees at the time, fell forward heavily, only just managing to catch himself on is elbows and saving himself from a broken nose.

“Anything?” he panted, squeezing his trembling hands into fists in front of him, no doubt in an effort to get them to stop shaking.

Mr Falco shook his head, his white beard swishing as he did.

“I couldn’t get past the main barrier. Do you recal-”

“I didn’t properly get past it myself,” Percival grit out, dragging in deep breaths through clenched teeth.

“What does that mean?” Tina asked, frowning as she hesitantly drew closer to the pair.

Mr Falco sighed heavily.

“That we failed. We’re going to have to try again,” he said. “Until we can break them down.”

Tina blanched.

“And there’s no other way?”

“None that will leave Mr Graves functioning for a while afterwards,” the man replied simply.

“Don’t even think about it!” Tina snapped at Percival, who raised his head a little at that.

He paused for a moment, before raising a hand yieldingly and dropping his head once again, focusing instead on catching his breath. The fact he didn’t even half-heartedly reprimand her for overstepping her bounds like that, spoke volumes of how much the process had exhausted him she thought, and that worried her immensely.

“You will be able to get to them eventually though, right?” she asked.

Mr Falco shrugged.

“There’s no certainties when it comes to the mind,” he sighed. “Mr Graves’ natural talent for occulemency is working against us here, I’m afraid. And there’s the matter of my mind being an unfamiliar one. That inspires his instinctual guard to rise further.”

Tina frowned a little at that.

“A familiar mind though...?”

“Would likely have more success, yes,” the legilimens said, nodding, before dragging in a deep breath. “Ready to go again, Mr Graves?”

“Wait. Mr Graves, what about Que-”

“No,” Graves replied, shaking his head firmly as he pushed himself haltingly back up to his knees.

Tina grimaced. Where he’d looked white before, he now looked positively grey.

“Mr Graves-”

“Tina, if you can’t control yourself, please leave,” Percival grit out, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to pull himself back together.

Tina squared her jaw stubbornly. She had half a mind to argue the point further, but as with all things Percival seemed determined to do this the hard way. She shook her head. She’d give him one more attempt with Mr Falco before pushing the idea of bringing Queenie in on this some more.

Letting out a breath through her nose she got up and went back to her spot by the wall.

Percival looked over at her, nodding his thanks before turning back to Mr Falco.

“Shall we?” he uttered.

The old man drew in a deep breath himself before nodding, resting his hand against the side of Percival’s head once again.

“We’ll talk through it this time,” he uttered, closing his eyes. “Take in a deep breath, calm your mind. Lower what defences you can and let me through. I’m here to help you. You’ve invited me. I’m not a threat.”

Percival hummed, clenching his fists on top of his thighs, sweat already starting to bead on his brow, which was furrowed with concentration.

Whatever he did seemed to do the trick because a slow smile immediately started to spread over Falco’s face. “That’s it,” he said. “Perfect. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

Tina squeezed her hands tight at her sides, trying her very best not to shift. Even if it was going better this time, it was still affecting Percival. He was trembling openly now, the grayness picking up tinges of green at that point. The man looked like he was about to be sick to be perfectly honest.

“Alright, there’s another barrier here, Percival I just need you to… good lad,” the legilimens uttered, looking a good deal better than his subject.

“Here’s the big one,” the old man murmured, his thumb brushing against the other man’s temple in a manner that Tina was sure was meant to be soothing, though knowing Percival, was probably anything but. She couldn’t speak though. Not at this stage.

“Take a nice deep breath,” Falco said gently. “In an out, and as you release, try and let all of the tension go with it. Bring down those walls a little for us. I’ve been here before, I’m not going to cause you harm. Come on, deep breath.”

Tina watched as Percival drew in a deep breath, holding it a moment before slowly, shudderingly, letting it out.

It seemed to be doing the trick, the legimen’s let out a soft laugh.

“Perfect. That’s perfect. Well done, my boy, wel-AH!”

Tina’s eyes widened as the man recoiled away from Percival, falling back, clutching his own head.

“What happened?!” Tina gasped, jumping forward as Percival toppled down to the ground,  grabbing fistful’s of his own hair and tugging at it painfully hard, crying out through clenched teeth, his eyes still scrunched shut.

“He forced me out,” Mr Falco groaned, pushing himself back up to his knees, one hand still pressed to his own temple as he reached out to touch Percival’s head again, snatching it back like he’d been burned. “I can’t get back in like before. He’s actively blocking me now.”

“What do you mean _back in_?” Tina gasped.

“We got through the block, but just as the memory started to form, he repelled me from his mind.”

“You mean… he’s still trapped in that memory?” Tina uttered, before jumping when Percival let out a loud, unrestrained, agonised cry. And then another. It didn’t stop.

She’d never heard her boss scream before. Maybe she had the night before, actually, but she’d been quite out of touch with reality at the time, after being hit by a cruciatus curse for the first time. She could barely recall anything after that.

She was present in mind for this though, and she wished she wasn’t.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes wide and perhaps a bit wet as she watched her boss, a man she respected immensely, more and more with every day actually, a man who she’d found herself growing quite fond of, shriek in agony, grabbing and grasping, scratching desperately at something around his left shoulder.

 _“Stop it! STOP IT STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT_ PLEASE!! _”_ he sobbed, before letting out another scream.

She turned desperately to Mr Falco, who turned back to her, looking rather helpless himself.

“What do we do?” she cried, trying to shake Percival, like he just needed waking up, but springing back when this resulted in the loudest, most pain-filled scream yet.

“I’m going to need to try and get back in, but by force now because he’s not going to be able to co-operate at all,” Falco replied, moving back to kneel by Percival, readying himself for the invasion.

“But, won’t that harm him?!”

“Not as much as being trapped inside his own mind will!” the legilimens snapped, shutting his eyes, reaching out to grasp Percival once more.

Tina bit her lips, eyes wide with terror. They couldn’t do this! She wasn’t an expert by any means, but she knew what could happen to people whose minds are taken over by force. The fact that the man had managed to come through similar invasions in the past was a miracle, but not one they should count on, surely. And the thought of Percival Graves spending the rest of his life as one of the poor souls lying in the beds of St Jude’s Infirmary… it was just too horrible to contemplate.

“Wait!” she gasped, grabbing the old man’s wrist. “Stop. There has to be another way-”

“Ms Goldstein You’re going to have to-”

Both of their heads snapped over to the doors as they were thrown open. By the time Tina registered the new arrival as her sister, Queenie was already kneeling beside Percival, eyes squeezed shut, her forehead pressed to his as she took over from where the other legilimens had clearly failed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update again guys. Real Life has, regrettably, been getting in the way of writing.   
> But hopefully you all enjoy this and, I say this every time, I hope to have the next chapter up soon. I have a pretty solid plotline from here so it ought to go a bit more smoothly now.
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone who took the time out of their days to comment and share your thoughts with me. Each and every one of you really light up my day and I really love hearing about the parts that you liked or stuck out to you. Seriously, thank you so much :)
> 
> Thanks and apologies again :)

Tina begging for her life as, Percival Graves, a man they all trusted,  _ all _ relied on to do the right thing, ordered her thoroughly illegal execution was something Queenie thought would stay with her as one of the worst things she’d heard, thanks to her gift. 

And she’d heard some pretty horrible things over the years. 

She tried not to let it get to her but she had. She had heard  _ horrible _ things. From the Aunt that had quietly resented taking her and Tina in as children, who had thought awful things about their parents so loudly Queenie sometimes had trouble recalling their memory without the woman’s bitter toughts tainting them. From passersby in the streets. From the professors and students at school as the war waged on in Europe, and more and more of them lost people they loved. 

But still, almost four months ago, she was certain she’d heard the worst thing she’d ever have to, by a long shot. 

Then, just as she was walking into the atrium, a box of Jacob’s pastries in her hands, she heard something that came very,  _ very _ close to it. 

Again, Tina was begging, but distantly this time. No, this time it was Mr Graves’ voice coming through clearest, panicked and more desperate than Queenie had ever heard it.

_ Stop it! Stop it please! Someone help! Help me! Help me! _

She stumbled a little as someone’s shoulder collided with hers, almost sending the pastries scattering across the floor. 

Biting her lip she passed the boxes off to the nearest person, without any explanation she’d realise later, and set off as fast as she could. She tried to reach out to Percival, but he seemed to be in a real state and just kept pleading for help, for it to stop, for someone to find him and make it all stop. So instead she focused on tracking down Tina. If she could hear Tina upset, chances were she was with the man regardless, and her sister was much easier to narrow in on. 

Before she knew it she found herself at the doors of the Department of Mysteries, and she could piece together what most likely had happened from there. 

She pushed the doors open and took in the scene. Tina and one of the master legilimens of MACUSA were kneeling on the polished floor. Before them an unresponsive Percival Graves was thrashing about and screaming in, to him, very real pain.

It was a horrible thing to see and Queenie wasted no time in putting an end to it all. 

Without another thought, she dashed across the room and kneeled by the man’s head, resting both her hands on his temples. She drew in a deep breath before leaning forward, pressing her forehead to his in an effort to get the best connection possible, and letting her consciousness slip away in search of his. 

Mind reading was something of a dirty term among legilimens. 

Queenie generally didn’t think people meant anything bad by it, but it was sort of like describing a professional quidditch player as merely really good at playing catch. It was a bit of an understatement to say the least, and not all that close to the mark at all. 

No, if one really wanted to stick with mind reading as the example of choice, they’d be much better off describing it as sitting on a broom, in a library, with books of different sizes and fonts flying around you at different speeds. Occasionally, you would catch glimpses of what’s in the books. If you’re flying in the same direction as a flock, you can read their stories easier. 

Queenie found that books tended to come to her when she willed it, most of the time. Tina’s books tended to come to her easiest, and they were generally rather easy to find in the pack. Some of Percival’s were starting to get like that too, but a lot still actively evaded her. 

The particular line of thought, or the book, that she was after in this case, was easy enough to spot. It was thrashing and screaming through the air painfully, like a wounded animal, but at the same time it was as easy to grab a hold of as a snitch. Now she just needed to chase the thought, pursue it until it either fell into line with her, or she was able to sync her mind enough with it to read and become one with it. It wasn’t an easy task, but the more familiar you were with someone, the more used you get to the way they think (the way their books tend to fly). And on top of that, people were easiest to read when they were in pain. 

Which brought up another issue with the term  _ Mind Reading:  _ that it suggests the legilimens is little more than an audience to the thought or memory being played out. Entering another person’s mind was a much more visceral experience than watching their thoughts played out in a pensieve. When you enter a person’s mind, the experience was heightened. Queenie could hear everything the bearer of the memory was hearing in their head, could see what they were seeing, smell and taste it too. The best legilimens, the most learned, could even experience the same physical responses as the subject, having linked their psyches so close with theirs. 

Queenie had never, in her life, been more grateful not to be quite so skilled or learned, because she can’t imagine the feeling of being pierced through the shoulder by a meathook and hoisted from it was the sort of experience one just bounces back from, even if it’s only a secondhand one. 

She watched in shock and no small amount of horror as a weeping Percival Graves, covered in bruises and blood, swung from a rope with the disturbing grace of a condemned man from a noose. 

She gasped when suddenly his arm was jerked down at an angle which would have been painful even without a giant hook speared through that shoulder. Just as suddenly he was sent into a violent spin, ripping an agonised scream from deep inside him. 

This was clearly the work of external influence, but Queenie could see nothing but swirling, blurry figures and shapes looming around them, a loud but muffled noise filling her ears, overwhelming her senses, putting her all the more on edge. And on top of that was the stench, a deep, organic, rotting smell seeping through everything, making her want to gag. 

Her attention flew back to Percival as the rope was released and he dropped to the floor with a pained groan. He laid there for a moment before getting shove roughly onto his front, the hook jerking in his shoulder of its own volition.

_ “Please. Please, I can’t… I can’t answer, I can’t, please stop. I can’t-” _

Queenie shook herself from her shock. It was clear what had happened, clear from the second that she’d managed to enter the scene. Percival had gotten trapped, lost in the memory and, horrible as it was, was only able to recall what came to him the clearest, which was, of course, the pain, the stench and the horrible, horrible muffled cacophony of jeering voices. She didn’t know what goal he’d had in mind when committing to this course of action, but could see absolutely no purpose in what had resulted. 

She’d always been taught that when one becomes lost in a memory, it was much better to pull back and start again, and that’s exactly what she decided needed to be done. 

With that thought in mind she dashed over to Percival, who had begun weeping again as someone manhandled him to his knees, keeping his chest pinned to the ground by the hook by the looks of it. Queenie tried not to pay that and what it likely meant too much mind as she crouched in front of him and rested her hands either side of his head, linking her consciousness with his the best she could and willing them away, somewhere safe, somewhere they both knew, somewhere they could calm down and regroup. That place turned out to be her living room. 

Percival immediately curled up on the floor, dragging in deep, ragged breaths through his nose as he pressed a hand to his mouth in an effort to muffle any sounds of distress that might slip out as he attempted to pull himself back together. It took a little while for him to succeed in that, and Queenie could only watch, feeling her heart break a little as he struggled. Mr Graves was a powerful man, a strong man, and, she had always thought (and now  _ knew),  _ a very good one. Watching him go through something like this, to struggle like this, after what she’d just seen, which she knew was hardly an isolated event. It  _ was _ horrible, and difficult, and so bitterly unfair. 

She gasped herself when he finally spoke up

“What did you do that for?” he uttered as he pushed himself haltingly up to sit, scrubbing roughly at his face. 

Queenie was a bit taken aback by the question. 

“You… were calling for help?” she said, face scrunching up with confusion. “I could hear you from the atrium.”

Her heart hurt a little when embarrassment flashed across the man’s face at that. 

“Oh,” he uttered, dragging in deep breaths, but a little slower than before now, thank goodness. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologise for asking for help,” Queenie insisted. 

“It wasn’t my intention.”

“You clearly needed the help,” Queenie argued. 

“I was doing fine.”

“You weren’t,” she said, frowning some more. “You were trapped in the memory.”

“Well it was the memory I was after.”

“I didn’t say it was the wrong memory. But you were trapped in it,” Queenie said, arching her brow pointedly. 

Percival let out a frustrated sigh, dropping his head in his hands. 

Queenie grimaced sympathetically and sat down in front of him, keeping her silence and focusing instead on maintaining the visage of the living room around them, it was a little tricky with Percival’s mind wandering the way it was, as she had to keep a hold of it as well. 

“How did you get in so easily?” he rasped out after a little bit. “ _ I _ couldn’t get in without a struggle and you seemed to have just slipped right through.”

“Well, you did most of the hard work,” Queenie replied with a shrug. “And my mind is a familiar presence to yours now. It can interact with yours with less resistance.”

“Clearly my walls are shot,” Percival muttered in frustration. 

“Your walls were doing a fine job keeping one of MACUSA’s most powerful legilimens out,” Queenie replied calmly. “Which could have very well worked against you if he’d decided to force his way through them, which is another reason why I stepped in.” 

Percival grimaced but nodded again. 

“What now?” he asked, rubbing roughly at his face before sitting up properly and looking at her, appearing a bit more put together than before. 

Queenie smiled encouragingly. 

“You tell me what you’re trying to achieve and we will do it, together,” she said, nodding. “These things go much more smoothly with an anchor, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

Percival grimaced, but nodded. 

“Why did you banish, Mr Falco?” she asked, frowning. “You’re not a foolish man, you must have known doing that would be dangerous.”

Queenie’s eyes widened a little as she felt a sharp tug from Percival’s mind against hers as he instinctively tried to retreat, a quiet hum of voices starting to seep into the safe memory of the living room. 

“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he uttered quickly. 

“I don’t want to do the same thing,” Queenie reasoned. 

Percival shook his head. 

“I highly doubt you would,” he said, shutting his eyes for a moment, until the voices quieted to a barely audible whisper. 

Queenie frowned, but decided to let it go for now. 

She shuffled forward a little, closer to the man, resting her arms on the knees of her folded legs, holding them out to Percival. 

“You will let me help though, won’t you?” she asked. 

Percival sighed. 

“You won’t like what’s inside my head, Queenie,” he muttered. 

“I don’t expect to,” she replied. “Not with this at least. But you’re not a silly man. I trust that if you’re doing this, it’s because it’s absolutely necessary, and if that’s the case I want to help.”

The corner of Percival’s lips twitched slightly at that, the hum of muffled voices fading away some more for a brief moment.

“That’s kind of you,” he said quietly, grimacing a moment longer before nodding. “Alright. We’re wasting time going on about it like this.”

He drew in another deep breath before sitting up a little more put together in front of her and, after a moment of hesitation, resting his hands on top of hers. In an instant the memory grew a little more real, a little less fuzzy around the edges and secure for the both of them. Their minds were linked. 

Queenie smiled brightly. 

“Isn’t this better?” she said. 

Percival rolled his eyes. 

“Well it’s not worse.”

“You’re as bad as Tina,” Queenie giggled, shaking her head before sitting up straighter. “So, what are we trying to do?”

Percival sighed again.

“Tina and I followed a lead, and it took us to a suspected follower of Grindelwald.”

The hum of voices picked up a little at that, to the man’s frustration (and distress), which just made the voices louder and more distinguishable. 

Queenie squeezed his hands a little, focusing on the security and warmth of their joint safe place, until he settled enough to continue. 

“We subdued him,” he pressed on. “He needed to be taken away by healers unfortunately, so there wasn’t a chance to get answers from him. We searched the apartment, but the only thing of note were a set of coveralls. They were filthy, covered in muck. I recognised the smell, but couldn’t place it. It was sparking something in my head but each time I tried to think back... it was like the spark was doused before I could find it.”

Queenie nodded. 

“Sounds like a mental block to me,” she said, before grimacing. “You must know that these things, generally, are best not to tamper with.”

“And if there weren’t two aurors lives at stake, believe me, I’d be more than happy to let sleeping dogs lie,” Graves replied. “But there are. Extracting memories from the suspect isn’t possible for Morgana know’s how long. This was the most time-effective way to pursue a potential breakthrough in our search. I had to go through with it.”

Queenie sighed, shaking her head a little at that. 

“I guess,” she said quietly, before turning back to him. “So you pushed your way in, with Mr Falco. And something happened that made you push him out at the last second.”

The voices picked up around them again, but this time Percival let them speak clearly. 

_ “Well done, my boy _ ,” Mr Falco’s excited voice rasped around them, like he was being broadcasted over the wireless. There was a flicker of movement beside them and both Percival and Queenie turned to it, each drawing in sharp gasps when they found Gellert Grindelwald kneeling down beside them, leering at the both of them. 

Queenie could feel Percival stiffen as the man, or rather, the thought of him, reached over and brushed his fingers over his cheek, down his neck, before gripping the scruff of it sharply. 

“Mr Graves,” she gasped, squeezing his hands as his whole body started to tremble. 

“ _ Well done, my boy _ ,” Grindelwald’s visage purred, leaning closer and closer. “ _ Open up for me, that’s right. Just like you open those legs for me. Just like that, my boy.” _

Queenie bit her lip, blinking away a few tears in sympathy and Percival’s pain, his terror and humiliation coursed through her. It took her longer than it should have to notice the telling pull of Percival’s mind on hers. He was slipping back away, getting lost in his memory again. 

Gasping she gripped his hands tighter in hers and tried to focus on the living room again. But it wasn’t doing the trick, and Grindelwald wasn’t going anywhere either. He was slipping away more and more as Grindelwald started to run his hands all over him. He was blurring and fading from view in front of her, like smoke, as a bone deep cold began to set in all the while. 

Gripping his hands tighter still, Queenie cast her mind back further, to a clearing at the top of a hill, a breeze rustling the trees around them and sun shining bright. Birds in the forest surrounding illvermorny were chirping away without a care in the world, just as they had when she was a girl, enjoying picnics up here with her sister and with her friends. It was another safe place they shared, a place that was far away, in time and location, from everything that had happened to them this past year. She smiled as the vision slowly became a little sharper around them, the distant shouts of quidditch players and the smell of the old books that had materialised around them mixing with her memory. Percival was back. 

“Sorry,” he uttered. 

Queenie shook her head firmly.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” she said. “This is all normal, it’s why you need an anchor.”

“I don’t think it’s normal to lose control of your own thoughts quite this easily, Queenie,” he muttered, shaking his head despairingly. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten very weak in this regard-”

“The  _ last _ thing you are is weak, Percival Graves,” Queenie said firmly, with enough conviction to actually force the man to look up properly at her for a moment, before ducking his head again. 

“Either way, that answers my question I suppose,” she said. “Now, you realised that there was a mental block stopping you from gathering important information and decided to breach the block to find it. So you’re going to need to gather all the information you can from this memory and it might help you figure out where to look for your aurors?” 

“Or for further information as to what, Grindelwald’s up to in some capacity at the very least,” Percival replied, nodding. “Though, obviously, the main hope is that there will be something that can lead us to Wilson and Collins.”

Queenie nodded, her brows furrowing a little with determination. 

“So we need to go back to the memory,” she said. “But this time, we’re going to do it in a way that won’t get you lost in it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“We can do it. It may just take a few trips,” Queenie replied. “My professors always said that it’s much better to take small bites at a big meal rather than choke on it all at once. If things get too much we’ll come back here, or another happy memory, a  _ safe  _ memory. We’ll regroup, and go back until we have enough information for you to go on. It’s not going to do much to resolve what trauma it comes with, but as we’re pressed for time, right now it’s all we can do I think.”

Percival nodded. 

“I agree,” he said, before looking back up at her, his eyes serious. 

“You’re certain that you’re willing to do this?” he asked. “I’m sure I can try again with Falco, if you’re not.”

“I’m sure,” she said, nodding firmly. “I’m tougher than I look.”

Percival smile a little at that and inclined his head. 

“I’ve never had any doubt about that,” he said, before drawing in a deep breath. “Right, how do we do this?”

* * *

“Will you just stand still for a moment, Ms Goldstein?” Mr Falco grumbled as he kneeled beside Queenie and Percival’s bodies.

“Sorry,” Tina muttered, pausing her pacing of the room for a moment to look over at her sister and boss for what felt and could well be the thousandth time. It had to have been half an hour now, maybe more. She’d been grateful when the screaming finally stopped, but the silence, occasionally punctuated by small gasps or pained groans from Mr Graves wasn’t a big step towards setting her mind at ease.

“What’s taking them so long?” she grit out, starting to pace again without really realising she had. 

“Well, Goldstein the Younger has clearly been able to reach him, that’s fairly obvious from Mr Graves’ calmer state. Either she’s managed to calm him enough to take my place as his anchor and their attempting to achieve the original goal, or she’s caused considerable damage to his psyche and is trying to fix it.”

He held up a hand when Tina started at that, before bristling, both alarmed at the possibility and indignant on her sister’s behalf. 

“I’m confident it is the former,” the old man replied, before rocking back swiftly onto his haunches as both Queenie and Percival  _ finally _ came to. 

Tina surged forward. 

“Are you alright?” she gasped, grabbing Queenie first, tilting her head this way and that, checking her eyes were properly focused, before whirling around and doing the same to Percival. 

“Do. Not. Do. That. Again.”

“Can you let go of my face?” Percival drawled, giving her a far more pointed look that a man currently having his cheeks smushed together probably ought to manage. 

Tina, satisfied they were both back in one piece, sat down heavily and drew in a deep, calming breath, batting Queenie’s hands away when she patted her head soothingly. 

“Did you get anything?” she asked, looking between the two of them. 

Percival paused for a moment before inclining his head. 

“Well, we know that at some point in the past year I was held in an abattoir near the Hudson.”

Tina frowned at that, her nose wrinkling a little as her mind started to come up with possible origins for the stench that clung to those coveralls with this new knowledge (and pointedly not what being held prisoner in a slaughterhouse could entail).

“You’re sure it’s the Hudson?” she asked after a moment, looking between Percival and Queenie.

Queenie nodded as Percival spoke up. 

“We could hear the Binghamton passing by and the,” he clearer his throat and shook his head roughly, Tina reasoned he had been screaming a lot, though she didn’t comment on him going a little paler again. “The people in charge of guarding me had bought food from Lombardi’s Pizza. Which leads me to believe we’re looking for a slaughterhouse, close to the river, somewhere along the route of the Binghamton Ferry and potentially closer to Manhattan than farther from it.”

Tina nodded slowly at that, pushing herself to her feet. 

“Well then,” she said as she helped her sister and Percival to their feet. “I suppose there’s no time to lose.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo sorry for the long gap between chapters again guys. This one was a lot more tricky to write than I was expecting. I really hope it was worth the wait though. 
> 
> As always, thank you so much for all the people who took the time to comment. I honestly really do love hearing your thoughts and what bits you likes and what you're hoping to see...ah, I just love it man, you all make my day with each comment.   
> Thank you so much. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and I hope you like this chapter!!

Tina did not like this plan. She’d just spent the afternoon watching the unfiltered effect that being held captive by Grindelwald and his followers had had on her boss, and now he was asking her, telling her, to stand by idly as he threw himself back into the lion’s den. 

He was still her boss though. So it was with great reluctance she went and fetched the coveralls and boots from the bullpen, thinking up new arguments as to why this was a bad idea all the while. Her mind still whirring away as she approached the medical bay as ordered. 

Graves was waiting at the open doors. 

She decided to attempt the diplomatic approach. She was an adult after all, she should probably try something a bit more mature than ‘stomping her feet’ (even if the recipient of her efforts was acting as stubborn as a five year old).

She only managed to get as far as ‘Mr Graves-” before she was cut off. 

“Tina not again,” he sighed. 

Diplomacy be damned. 

“This is a bad idea,” she huffed stubbornly.

“No, you don’t like the idea,” Percival replied calmly. “That doesn’t make it a bad idea.”

“You shouldn’t be the one going in.”

“Tina,” Graves said firmly, a clear rebuke. 

Tina squared her jaw stubbornly, but after a moment found she had to drop her gaze. This was difficult. The line where professionalism should take over from personal concern seemed much more blurred than it ever had before. But before, she’d not seen the damage these people had done, the pain they’d caused, the trauma her boss buried so damn well. And now it was out in the open for her to see. She couldn’t just pretend that she didn’t see it anymore. She bit her lip and looked back up at him. 

“Sir,” she uttered, not really knowing where to go from there.

She was surprised when the man’s expression softened a fraction in response. 

“Tina,” he sighed. “I do understand your concern. I promise I’m not insisting on doing this with some foolish notion of proving myself to people or attempting to face demons head on.”

Tina sniffed a little at that.

“I’m not sure that’s true,” she retorted, surprising even herself with her nerve. It seemed the trials of this afternoon had affected her more than she’d expected. 

It did falter slightly as the man’s brow rose considerably at the comment. 

“Sorry,” she muttered. 

He inclined his head, before replying calmly, “It is. There may be cause for me to do so, but now is not the time for that. Not when our people’s,  _ my _ people’s lives are at stake. I’m insisting because I’m the best man for this job. I know better than anyone else what to expect from these people. I know how they operate, how they interact, what measures they take to protect their bases of operations, how their wards are set up, even how to take down a few of them without triggering traps. I know the measures they put into place to keep their captives subdued. I know where they have previously kept prisoners in this exact building,” he said. “I appreciate your concern Tina, truly, but whether you or I like the idea or not, this is the best plan of action going forward and the one that we are going to pursue. The matter’s not up for discussion.”

Tina grimaced, dropping her gaze down to the boots and coveralls in her hands, her cheeks flushing slightly red at the rebuke, gentle though it may have been. 

“But what if you can’t do it?” she asked, looking up after a moment.  

“I’m not saying you’re weak,” she added quickly, frowning slightly when he seemed to wince at the comment.“Anyone in your position, particularly after tonight, would have every right to be overwhelmed reliving it all so soon.”

Graves shrugged. 

“We’ll have the comm-links,” he said after a moment, tapping the chain to his pocket watch. “If I find myself feeling overwhelmed, I’ll call you and the others in to commence the raid, as planned if I become otherwise incapacitated,” he said. 

He looked her straight in the eye. 

“All contingencies for failure on my part have been taken into account,” he said. “The reason I’m going in is because it may quicken or improve our position, not that our success hinges on my pulling through. You needn’t worr-”

“I’m not worried about the success of the mission,” Tina sniffed, a little appalled that he thought that was what she was concerned about. 

Graves smiled at that and inclined his head. 

“I know you’re not,” he said. “And it’s kind of you to be concerned for my wellbeing, but the fact of the matter is that this life is not for people who run and hide from bad experiences. If I can’t handle this, I have no right to be an auror.”

Tina frowned darker still.

“You wouldn’t hold anyone else to those standards,” she argued. 

“I would.”

“An hour after they forced themselves to relive it all in their heads?”

Percival shook his head despairingly. 

“Regardless,” he pressed on, ignoring her triumphant  _ ‘Ah ha!’. _ “I’m confident that I’m not going to end up falling to bits, otherwise I’d not be risking it in the first place.”

“You’d be too busy writing your resignation for not being super-human apparently-”

“Tina,” Percival sighed, “I appreciate the concern, but you’re overstepping the mark.”

Tina shut her mouth so quick her teeth clicked together, her considerable concern for the recklessness of this plan once again warring terribly with her respect for the man and his position. 

Before one side won out over the other, both of their attention was caught by the click of heeled boots as they made their way down the corridor of beds towards the doors. 

“Mr Graves,” the woman, a tall witch with wiry black hair and the stark, white robes of a healer, greeted solemnly, before turning her stern gaze to Tina. 

“Madame Josephine, Tina, one of the auror departments up and comings,” Percival replied, motioning to Tina who flushed a little at the praise. “Tina, Madame Josephine, our new Head Healer, fresh from the west coast.”

“And missing the fire already,” Josephine sniffed. “You people take winter far too seriously.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Ma’am,” Tina replied, slipping into what Queenie liked to call her  _ Auror mode _ swiftly, shaking the woman’s hand with a friendly smile. “It does get warmer in Summer, don’t worry.”

“Something to look forward to I suppose,” Josephine replied, pumping her hand once before turning back to Graves and handing him two vials. “This dosage should be enough to last you about an hour Mr Graves.”

“That should be more than enough time,” Graves replied, pocketing both. “Thank you for your help, Ma’am.”

“Thank you for your consideration, Mr Graves,” Josephine replied, elaborating at the bemused frowns she got from both Tina and her boss. “The aurors back home weren’t quite as mindful of patient welfare and my duty of care therein.”

“I see,” Percival replied, frowning. “I’ll have a word in the President’s ear about that for you. Rest assured that whilst I’m director here, none of my aurors will hassle your healers for access to patients outside of the direst of circumstances,” he said. “In which case I would be present to plead our case in person. I would very much like it for the relationship between our two departments to mend in the future. I’m afraid it has suffered a little throughout Mr Weiss and my tenures over each respectively.”

Josephine's nose wrinkled slightly at that. 

“Yes I was briefed a little on my predecessor’s antics,” she said, frowning severely at the thought of them. “I would very much like that as well, Mr Graves. Both of our departments are destined to interact often, regrettable as that may be. We may as well do so amicably.”

Graves smiled politely at that and nodded. 

“That was my thinking exactly,” he said, before offering her his hand once more. “It seems like we’re destined to get on, Madame Josephine.”

“I hope so, Director,” she said, shaking his hand firmly once more. 

Tina and Graves bid their goodbye and turned to leave, only for the other woman to catch Graves’ arm before they did. Tina tried not to obviously notice the flinch the man gave in response.

“Ma’am?”

“I just wanted to say, Mr Graves, I did hear about Mr Weiss’ handling of your care last week,” she said.

Tina frowned a little as she spotted the muscle in Graves’ jaw twitch a little. A sure sign he wasn’t comfortable with the topic. She could understand why. For a new staff member to have heard about the incident, then she must have been told by someone. Chances were it was the President, upon being hired, but there was just as much chance any blanks were quickly filled in by the medical centre staff, which raised the question who else they had filled in (in indignant outrage or otherwise). Being the subject of office gossip was never a nice feeling, regardless of the subject, and this one was a nasty one as well. 

The woman pressed on regardless. 

“It was entirely unprofessional,” she said firmly. “And unbecoming of any healer with any regard to their oaths.”

“I rather got the impression that Mr Weiss saw himself far more as a medically inclined alchemist than an actual healer, Ma’am,” Graves replied with a tight smile, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past now though.”

“All the same, as a healer, I would like to apologise on his behalf. That will  _ never _ happen again, not while I’m here.”

Graves smiled again, a little more genuinely this time, but still clearly uncomfortable. 

“I’m glad to hear that, Madame Josephine. Thank you,” he said, nodding. 

The woman nodded back firmly, before stepping back. 

“Good luck with your operation tonight, Mr Graves, Ms Goldstein,” she said, before turning on her heel and walking back into the medical centre. 

Tina frowned, turning to the man after a moment. 

“Mr Graves?” she asked. 

He drew in a small breath through his nose, his eyes shutting for a moment before opening them again, resolute. 

He turned back to her. 

“Come on, let’s not waste any more time.”

The rest of the department was waiting for them in the atrium. They’d all responded quick enough to the call back. 

It was a little frustrating hearing each and every one of them report back that they’d been unable to find any information or leads of relevance. Though some had put down lines that could result in long-term advantages, it looked like all they had to work with right now was the information gleaned from Daniels and Mr Graves. Which means his plan would have to go ahead after all. 

It’s not that she doubted him, she didn’t, if anyone could pull this off in spite of everything, it was Percival Graves. But that didn’t stop her being afraid for him if it turned out he was just a bit more human than he wanted to allow himself to be. 

They apparated straight to the top of one of the tallest buildings overlooking the meatpacking district by the Hudson. Tina took a moment to peer over the edge. There were still a fair few people down there, in spite the darkening of the sky above. Stalls were still open, customers and workers filling up the square, Witnesses and potential casualties. Though that wasn’t all that was disturbing to her. 

They weren’t far from MACUSA. Regardless if tonight turned out to be fruitful in their search for Collins and Wilson, it seemed more or less certain that Mr Graves had been kept here at some point. For a while. And had terrible things done to him. And all the while, they were just walking distance from MACUSA. If he’d managed to overpower his captors and get free, he could well have walked to the office and busted Grindelwald where he stood.  He could have caught the subway! He was commuting distance!

Somehow that made the man seem all the more terrifying to her, because in all the time he’d impersonated her boss, he’d never once seemed on edge, or in the least bit stressed. 

If she were to attempt something like that, capturing and impersonating a person for so long, she’d have them kept somewhere far away. On the other side of the country, in another country, locked in a box at the bottom of an ocean on the other side of the world! Not two miles away! 

Two miles away - she’d have been in bits. She’d have been watching the door, jumping at every person who came through. And she didn’t think she’d be the only one either.

The fact that Grindelwald had managed to not only keep his cool, but look all the world like he was at ease, with that potential risk looming overhead, the man must have nerves of steel. It was a terrifying quality to have in an enemy. They had no way of knowing what he was capable when he seemed to know no limits. 

“Tina.”

She looked over her shoulder, before hastening to take a knee along with all the others, looking down at the floorplan that Graves had laid out in front of them. 

“Like I was saying,” he said, shooting Tina an amused glance before pointing down at the map. “There’s 3 storeys. The first floor is where the slaughter takes place, the level below that is where the processing and chilling is taken care of, the basement level is where the engines of the whole operation lay. This time of night there won’t be any animals in there but there will be no-maj’s and machinery working throughout,” he said. “In the past captives have been held in the basement level. In the back room, here.”

“What are we basing this on?” Cruz asked, frowning.

“First person testimony,” Graves replied, tapping his chest as he carried on studying the map, ignoring the quiet inhale of breath from a few of their number. 

“They… kept you here, boss?” Simpson uttered, eyes wide. 

“For a time.”

“Mercy Lewis,” Malik uttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I… I buy food from here! Every week I-”

“Anyway,” Graves said pointedly. “I will start the sweep from the ground floor down. If there’s nothing there, we’ll move on and lament a night wasted. If Collins and Wilson aren’t there, and I’m not caught, but there is something going on in there, we will withdraw and keep a close eye on the area for the time being. If Collins and Wilson are there,  _ or _ I run into trouble, I’ll give the signal,” he tapped his watch, “And we’ll raid. Half of you come into the building, I’ll be casting anti-disapparition wards of my own, so you’ll have to breach conventionally but they should all still be there when you do. Half of you clear out the no-maj’s and secure the warehouse. Simpson, Chambers, you are in charge of evacuating the no-maj’s inside the building if that ends up happening. Usual story, gas leak.”

“Got it boss,” Chambers said, bumping his fist against Simpson’s.

Percival smiled a little at that and nodded. 

“I want someone up here manning the watch,” he said, lifting his pocket watch once again. “Usual rules there. 1 is all good, 3 is standby, 6 raid, 9, you have permission to use lethal force where needed, 12, withdraw and regather at point B. Point B tonight is the Balto Statue in Central Park. That said we should aim to grab as many of them as we can. The more we capture, the more we’ll have to question and the better the chances are of us getting some sort of clue what Grindelwald is up to.”

“Got it boss.”

“Then I think that’s everything,” Graves replied. “Has anyone got any questions?”

“Just one, Director,” Cruz said, hesitating a moment before carrying on with the air of a woman diving into freezing waters. “Are you sure you should be the one doing this?” 

Graves arched his brow a little at that. 

“Yes,” he replied simply. “You have doubts?”

Cruz grimaced a little, but didn’t deny it. 

“It’s a big ask,” she said. “I mean, you were tortured in there presumably, right?”

“I can handle it.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“Then I give you the signal and we carry on with Plan B as we would have initially if getting someone on the ground to scope the situation first wasn’t possible,” Graves replied calmly, looking around. “Anything else?”

The others all shook there heads. 

“Then if you’ll excuse me a moment,” he said, before getting up, grabbing the folded coveralls and boots and making his way over to a darker corner of the roof to get changed into the disguise. 

Tina blinked when, almost as one, all of the others turned to look at her. 

“What do you think, Tina?” Cruz asked. 

“About?” she uttered, though she figured she already knew. She really wished people would stop looking to her to undermine Graves when he was right there. 

“About all of this?” Cruz pressed. “Graves is tough. But this? This has gotta be too much for anyone. Maybe one of us should go in there after him.”

Tina frowned, shaking her head. 

“Then there would just been two of us at risk of giving the game away or getting captured,” she pointed out. “And Graves is going in with polyjuice potion, so it’s not like he’s completely exposed, like one of us would be.”

“But is he the right man for the job?” Malik asked. 

Tina ran a hand through her hair, thinking it all over once again, before slowly replying, “Well… he knows where to look, how these people behave and how they guard their captives. If anyone could maintain cover, it’s probably him. And there’s a chance that if they expect someone has breached their hideout, they’ll kill any captives they have and leg it. If Collins and Wilson are still alive, it would be a miracle to be honest. The only reason they were taken is because they were in the way. They’re expendable. We can’t take risks.”

The others all grimaced as they let that thought mull over in their heads. 

“And they’re Mr Graves’ guys, his responsibility. We’d go in for any of the junior aurors,” she said, turning to the more senior members of the group, who each nodded. “Believe me, Mr Graves feels that way about all of us.”

She frowned, surprised at herself. She found she didn’t disagree with anything she’d just said, in spite of her earlier (and lingering) reservations with the whole mission. Because that was what this was at the end of the day after all. Not Mr Graves trying to prove himself. It was his responsibility to them, and if there was anything that they all knew it was that their boss would go through hell and high water for them. 

The others all seemed to be won over as well and so there was no further argument when Graves walked back over, slipping Daniels’ wand into a hold inside the coveralls and his wand into a shoulder holster he was wearing underneath. 

“Nice look, Boss,” Chambers joked, though it did come off a bit halfhearted. The mood was definitely quite sombre. 

Graves scoffed regardless as he set his neatly folded up clothes down beside him and tipped the vial of hair clippings into the polyjuice potion. 

“I’m not a fan of the cut,” he drawled, shaking up the vial in his hand before knocking it back in one gulp. 

He shook his head roughly as the change took over. A second later they were sitting with David Daniels instead of their boss. 

“If I’m not out in an hour, assume the worst and raid,” he said, nodding firmly to them before getting to his feet. 

“Good luck, Boss,” Tina uttered, Simpson chewing his lip nervously beside her. 

Graves shot them a quick smile, nodding back before apparating off the roof without another word. 

 

* * *

 

Graves apparated to an alley across the square from his target. Time was of the essence but he decided to take a moment to centre himself. Now he was alone, the pressure was on. If he could pull this off there’s a chance that they’d be in a much better position than they currently were. There was a chance he could get his aurors back and information on Grindelwald both. And yes, a there was a small aspect of him being able to prove to everyone, including himself, that he could still do this, that he was still fit to lead the department. But that wasn’t his main motivation. The fact of the matter is that Wilson and Collins wouldn’t be in this position if they’d not had the misfortune of standing between him and Grindelwald that night.  It was part of the job, but he was their boss and it was part of his job to protect them however he could, and he had every intention of doing that. And he was going to start by finding them.

Drawing in a deep breath, he took out his pocket watch, tapping it with the tip of his wand to activate the connection between it and his teams’. He turned the dial to 1. 

“Confidence, Percival,” he muttered to himself, nodding firmly before pushing off the wall and striding out into the crowd purposefully, arrogantly (as this was David ‘Graves Manor would make a nice whore-house’ Daniels he was pretending to be). He smirked over at the No-Maj’s whose shoulders were knocked as he passed by without any regard for them. If the rolled eyes and muttered ‘Someone’s gotta sort that kid out’ were anything to go by, he was playing his roll convincingly. 

He made sure not to react outwardly when he was hit immediately by a wave of the stench he’d sampled on the man’s clothes earlier. This had to be the place. He’d been to a few slaughterhouses throughout the years, this one though, this one he’d recognise anywhere. The smell of blood, meat, oil, manure battling with some strong cleaning agents was very nearly overpowering and stuck to the mind like a permanent sticking charm.

Shaking his head roughly he pushed forward, striding through the warehouse and making his way down the stairs that lead to the basement level. Once there was a suitable absence of people around he ducked away into the shadows and pulled out his own wand. The wards on the building took a little wrangling but eventually he managed to find them, and once he found them it was easy enough to knit his own in along with them. People never really seemed to take the risk of additional spells being added to their wards into account, they mostly just assumed that their sole intention would be to tear them down. More fool them when they find they couldn’t disapparate in spite of their own spells being lifted.

Once he was was satisfied, he carried on his way down the stairs. 

He was immediately it by the roar of machinery swelling up around him. If there was any doubt left in his mind whether this was the right place or not, if this was really the factory, out of all of the factories in the world, that he’d spent one miserable month of his life, it was chased away by the cacophony of engines and steam chugging away to keep the machines upstairs working. He’d never forget the rhythm of it, the loud thump that resulted from a gear that had come loose or was missing a tooth. The hiss of a loose steam valve by the backroom door, the way it squealed for 10 seconds straight, then calmed, then squealed loudest for 2, then settled again for 20, before starting again. The rattle of a loose fitting against one of the pipes that  _ never, ever stopped.  _

He shook his head roughly.

A door opened up at the end of the cavernous room, and he had just enough time to step back quickly into the shadows as a large man walked out. He recognised him immediately. Marius Phelps, known wizarding supremacist, violent criminal and proud giver of a number of Percival’s more recent scars and nightmares.

“Gotta take a leak, boys. Try not to break them just yet, alright?” he chuckled as he left the room, slamming the door behind him. He was making his way down the narrow corridor between the engines, taking a moment to smirk and knock one of the pipes as he walked past. 

Percival narrowed his eyes as he watched him approach. 

It definitely sounded like they had prisoners in there. But he couldn’t be sure.

Phelps was getting closer. 

He could let him go and investigate, make sure. 

Or he could disable him now and go in without the risk of a surprise once he did. 

He was getting closer. 

Toilet break. Nobody would be expecting him back for a while. And he was on a time limit. He could erase his memory if it turns out to be nothing. 

Closer. 

Grindelwald might pick up on it though. But surely he didn’t waste the energy on checking the minds of all of his subordinates. 

A muffled scream came from the room. Phelps passed in front of him.

Percival drew in a quick breath before stepping out from his cover, stunning him right between the shoulder blades, wrapping him in ropes and catching him before he could hit the ground. 

Cursing Daniels’ weak frame, he took a moment to drag the much larger man away from sight, depositing him in a dark corner behind some of the larger engines. He took a moment to set the watch to 3, putting the others on standby, before slipping his wand back into its hold and stepping out into the corridor. 

The head on approach it was then.

Nodding firmly to himself, he strode down the hall, knocking on the door once before stepping inside, like he had every right to be there. 

The sight he found made it very,  _ very _ difficult to keep up his act. They had Collins and Wilson alright. Both were chained to the wall by the neck. Collins was out cold and didn’t look good at all, in fact Percival could barely make out his chest rising and falling, and even then only half of it seemed to be. 

Wilson, poor kid, was very much awake and suffering for it. 

“David, didn’t think you were coming tonight,” one of the leaner men of the group drawled as he forced himself into a sobbing Avery Wilson, who’d been stripped bare and forced onto his hands and knees as another man came to settle at his front. 

“Daniels?” the first man laughed. “What’s with you?”

Percival shook his head roughly, before forcing a quick grin and wandering over to where a collection of drinks had been deposited, casually grabbing himself a beer. There were six of them in the room. They weren’t expecting an attack but he’d still need the element of surprise to come out safely on top.

Cracking open the beer he turned to them, all eyes momentarily on him.

“Couldn’t get a bloody wink of sleep today,” he spat, effecting David Daniels’ annoying, sneering voice. “Fucking No-Majs. First it was one of those… fire engines, then some squawling little man rattling on about  _ God _ right outside my window. Had half a mind to send him straight to his damn maker if he’s that damn obsessed with him.”

The others laughed uproariously at that, turning their attention away from him and back to what they were previously up to, or rather, most worryingly, to WIlson. 

“You shoulda done it, pal,” the first man scoffed, before giving a rather vicious thrust that ripped a keening sob from Wilson.

“‘Scuse?” Percival said, slowly setting his beer down and drawing his own wand while the others weren’t looking. 

“You shoulda sent the fuckers right to their bloody maker.”

“Oh, I intend to,” Percival replied, letting David Daniels’ breathier tones drop for his own, which grabbed everyone’s attention long enough to allow him the satisfaction of stunning them each in the face. 

Casting a quick  _ incarcerous _ at them one by one and gathering their wands, he took out his pocket watch and turned the dial to 6. 

With backup assured he quickly made his way over to Wilson, who scrambled back, shielding Collins the best he could in spite of his own vulnerable state. 

“You’re not going to get out of this alive, Daniels’,” he croaked, eyes still swimming with tears but determined all the same. “Not if you stay here. Leave now and you may have a chance before your master finds out what you’ve done.”

He smiled a little at that as he carefully made his way over to the man, boy really. Merlin’s Beard he was so young. This should have never happened to him. 

“Avery Wilson, you’re a far braver man than I’ve ever given you credit for,” he uttered, kneeling down in front of him. 

Wilson blinked a little, before his eyes fell to the wand in Percival’s hand. In an instant a sob ripped itself from him. 

“Mr Graves?”

“The one and only,” Percival replied with a small, reassuring smile which he hoped still looked somewhat like himself even with Daniels’ blasted face. 

“We’re going to get you out of here, kid,” he promised, not reaching out to him, he knew the last thing he probably wanted was to be touched right now, after that. 

He grimaced and nodded over to Collins, who remained unmoving. 

“What happened?”

Wilson drew in deep, wet breaths as he tried to reign in his relieved tears. “ _ H-he… he was trying to p-protect me,”  _ he choked out, his chest heaving painfully with the tell tale gasps of the immensely distressed. He waved a trembling hand at the iron chains wrapped around both of their necks, attaching them to a stud set into the wall. “They’re bewitched. If you use magic they- he- he wouldn’t stop, he was trying to- he- he w-won’t wake up, Boss. Boss, he won’t wake up!”

Percival shook his head and gently shushed the kid. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright, Avery,” he said. “Take deep breaths for me, okay? Nice deep, calm breaths. The others are on their way and we’re going to get you both out of here and out of harm’s way, I promise you,” he said. “Where are your clothes.”

“I don’t know,” Wilson croaked, his face crumpling as tears took over again.

“Okay then,” Percival said, trying his very best to be soothing as he got up and scanned the room for something, anything to give the kid. He was a moment away from stripping down one of the damn brutes laid out around them when he finally caught sight of a small stack of blankets tucked away in the corner. They were for moving fragile items but it would at least provide some sort of modesty for the man, and likely wouldn’t reek of the people who’d tormented him for the past week.

“Here we are,” he uttered, carefully throwing the large blanket over Wilson, taking a moment to help him wrap it securely around himself, before doing the same to a still motionless Collins. 

“Keep breathing for me Avery,” he said. “It’s almost over. You’ve been so brave, just hang on for me a little longer,” he said before turning his attention to Collins, kneeling down to try and listen to his breathing. It was barely there and what  _ was _ there… it didn’t sound good, not at all. His heartbeat was equally weak and worrying. 

He grimaced and looked up at the ceiling. What was taking the others so damn long?! 

Shaking his head roughly he pushed himself back up. 

“I’m going to get these off you,” he said, nodding to the chains, before pulling out his wand and pointing it at the iron collar wrapped around Collins’ neck. 

Wilson bit his lip. 

“Do you know how?” he asked. 

“I managed to get out of a similar set myself,” he muttered as he concentrated at peeling the curses and jinxes imbedded in the metal, carefully, one by one, so as to not trigger any unfortunate responses. “That was just about all I managed at the time of course.” He shot Wilson a quick smile. “Don’t worry, timing’s much more on our side this time around.”

Wilson smiled back weakly at that, but it fell soon enough, replaced by a rather alarmed expression. 

Percival blinked, glancing over his shoulder. Nobody was there. 

“What?”

“You- you’re you again,” he said, pointing to Percival’s face. 

He frowned, quickly pulling out his watch again, tapping it with his wand so it actually showed the time. The hour wasn’t up and he didn’t think the highly acclaimed Madame Josephine would have mismeasured that badly. 

“Damn,” he muttered. “Daniels must have died after all.”

“Good,” Wilson muttered, a dark expression flashing over his young face. 

Percival couldn’t fault him that. 

He shook his head and turned back to the curse breaking work. “It doesn’t make too much difference though,” he said. “The others are already raiding. I’m just glad it didn’t happen when I first walked in.’

As if on cue, the door swung open, but it wasn’t one of theirs that sprinted inside. 

“MACUSA!” The woman shrieked. “MACUSA ARE- **_YOU!_ ** ”

“Stupify!” Percival snapped, the spell hitting her straight in the chest. 

“Not the smartest this lot, are they?” he quipped as he summoned her limp body back into the room and swung the door shut, bound her too before turning back to Collins. A second later the collar sprung open. 

“Oh Sweet Juno, thank the powers that worked,” Wilson gasped, practically sagging with relief as Percival turned his attention to him. 

“Just a moment longer and we’ll be out of this forsaken place,” Percival muttered, his attention momentarily being captured by a deafening  _ whoosh _ from upstairs. 

He blinked, exchanging a confused frown with Wilson before shaking his head. “They’re having quite the party up there,” he muttered, redoubling his efforts to break through the curses, and eventually managing it after another minute or so. 

“There we are, much better,” he muttered, rocking back on his haunches as another loud whoosh of what sounded like flames swept across the ceiling. 

“G-give me one of their wands, Boss,” Wilson uttered. “I’ll guard the room. You go and help the others.”

Percival hesitated, before more crashes and bangs came from upstairs. He didn’t want to leave the kid right now, not until he saw him safely in MACUSA’s medical centre, but at this rate the building would collapse in on them first. 

Cursing quietly he handed him Daniels’ wand. 

“Stun anyone who opens the door without telling you they’re… ‘delivering coffee’ first, got it?”

“Got it, Boss,” Wilson uttered, rubbing roughly at his tear-stained cheeks. 

Percival shot him a quick, tight smile before pulling out his own wand. “Just a little longer, Avery. I promise.”

Wilson nodded, weakly, shifting to cover more of Collins as Percival yanked open the door and ran out. Almost immediately he was nearly hit with spells from both sides. 

He returned fire straight away and took cover. 

“Graves, is that you?!” one of his attackers called. “Didn’t think you’d be so eager to-”

“That’s enough out of you, I think,” Graves replied as he charmed one of the pipes to whack the dark figure lingering in the shadows to his right, clean around the head. If the loud thud was anything to go by, it seemed to do the job, but he summoned the bastards wand to him regardless. He arched his brow and turned his attention to the other. 

“Ah, smarter than your buddy are you?” he commented. “But not smart enough to keep out of this mess.”

“Traitor,” a woman’s voice snarled from the shadows. 

“I expect that’s how a criminal would feel, yes,” he commented as he weaved his way through the machinery, making sure to keep his footfalls quiet and breathing quieter still. The engines had stopped and now the only noise to cover for him was the distant racket of duels above. Fortunately, it was all that covered for his opponent too, who, either out of over eagerness to attack or momentary distraction, backed into one of the engines with a telling clatter. Ducking the panicked Killing Curse sent his way, he shot a stunner immediately back, smirking triumphantly as he listened to a wand, then a body, fall to the hard, stone floor. 

“Maybe not so smart,” he commented as he walked over, binding her and picking up her wand to add to his growing collection. 

He took a moment longer to make sure the man on the other side was also bound before quickly making his way upstairs. 

Nothing much tended to phase him, after his years working as an auror, and the war before that. But the scene he was met with on the ground floor of the slaughterhouse was definitely something. 

There was duels left right and centre, 10 of his against at least 20 of Grindelwald’s. 2 on 1, it should have been fierce and rapid fire, but instead each little battle seemed sporadic, distracted, thanks entirely to everyone being forced to give at least half of their attention to the dragon, made up entirely of billowing, roaring flames, that was swooping through the building taking dives at friend and foe alike. Thank goodness Grindelwald hadn’t decided on using a timber mill as a base of operations or they’d all be dead by now for sure. 

He blinked, ducking down to the cover of the stairs as the fire swooped overhead before carrying on its merry way. 

“Mr Graves!” Tina bellowed from nearby. “Please tell me Collins and Wilson are here!”

“They’re here,” Percival called back, stepping forward to help her quickly overwhelm her remaining opponent before grabbing her arm. “Basement level. Room at the back. Make sure you shout through the door you’re delivering coffee. They’re in a bad way Tina, guard them. I’ll sort it out up here.”

Tina nodded firmly, taking off the second he let her go. 

Percival did the same. 

First order of business: find the moron who decided that casting fiendfyre without knowing how to control it and confiscate their wand for their stupidity. 

That didn’t turn out to be a difficult task, as the man was standing in the middle of the factory screaming his head off in terror as he attempted to banish the flames that were streaming from his wand still.

_ Unbelievable _ . 

Blocking a spell sent at him from his side and shooting the attacker down, he stalked over to the incompetent excuse for a wizard, snatched his wand from his shaking hands, clocked him soundly on the nose with his own clenched fist before turning his attention to the situation at hand. 

Cutting the spell off was easy enough. Controlling fiendfyre that had been cast by a weak-willed source was considerably not. 

Stowing the man’s wand away with the others he turned his attention to the fire creature, drew in a deep breath, before whipping his wand around himself, much like he were about to throw an invisible lasso at it. 

He did it again, and again, until a wind started to pick up around him, strong enough to send anything that wasn’t bolted down flying. The fire swept back around the room its attention finally settling on him as it did so. Changing course, it headed straight for him. Just as it was about to hit Percival upped the ante on his own personal little whirlwind. As planned, the fire was sucked into it. On the upside, he had it contained, on the downside, now he had to get rid of it. Conveniently, they were right next to a river. Conventional water spells might not kill Fiendfyre, but he expected dunking it in a river and starving it of fuel, oxygen and whatever lingering connection it had with its caster would probably do the trick. 

With that thought in mind he drew in a deep breath, and, like he was lobbing a bludger down the length of a pitch, sent his whirlwind and the sentient flames within them across the factory, through the tall, dirty, glass windows and down into the Hudson River outside. 

The entire room seemed to fall silent and still as he staggered over to the large hole blown through the glass panelling, and looked down just in time to see the faint glow of flames die out beneath the river’s murky surface. 

“Thank the powers for that,” he muttered, before whirling around and stunning every bloody Grindelwald Groupie he laid eyes on, his aurors following suit, until finally, blessedly, it seemed that they had them all taken care of. 

Once their new captives were all disarmed, bound, the level cleared, and he assured that all of his aurors were present and accounted for, Percival lifted his own wards enough for them to be transported. 

He caught Malik’s arm before he was about to take his guy away. “Simpson and Chambers got everyone out okay?” he asked. 

“Chambers almost lost an arm shielding some grumpy bastard who didn’t want to leave his supper, but they all got out before it got too bad. I don’t think they saw anything other than the flames but we did say gas leak.”

Graves nodded. 

“We’ll have them obliviated regardless. First though, send medics to the basement right away.”

“Collins and Wilson-?”

“Here, but in a bad way,” he said. 

Malik grit his teeth and nodded firmly before taking off. 

Percival wasted no time in taking back off down the stairs to the basement, clearing the level properly before approaching the backroom. 

“I’m delivering coffee,” he called, knocking once. 

The door jerked open and he found himself staring down the length of Tina’s wand. 

“Where is my brother from?” she asked. 

“To your great annoyance, Denmark. And he was just staying there for a while,” Percival replied.

Tina sighed with relief at that and dropped her wand, quickly crouching down beside Wilson who was curled up into himself. 

“It’s all taken care of up there. Healers are on their way,” he said, crouching down, ducking his head a little to meet Wilson’s eye. “It’s all over now, Kid.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo sorry for another big delay between chapters guys. Got knocked with some nasty writer's block until literally this morning. 
> 
> But as usual, I hope you like it and thank you so much for everyone who commented. You guys seriously make my day man, I just wish I could articulate how much XD
> 
> Thanks again!

It had been a very long week. A very  _ long _ ,  _ painful _ week. 

Robert Collins passed away one day after he was rescued. He’d been a giant of a man, strong in mind, body, and soul. But the internal injuries that he’d suffered had been too great for anyone to come back from. Most would have succumb long before he had.

Everyone was distraught. His family, who’d been at his bedside when he passed; Wilson, who was only a few beds down; his department - from Major Investigation, all the way to Wand Permits and No-Maj Relations. Even Percival himself, was struck by the loss. It wasn’t their first, of course. Only two of the  _ Original 12  _ aurors had lived to an old age after all, and the world had hardly gotten any less dangerous since then. The danger just came in different forms. 

No, Robert Collins was far from their first lost teammate. But it still hit hard each time. Even Percival, who’d put in over two decades on the job, had still caught himself hoping for a miracle along with the others. 

But it didn’t come through for them this time. 

It was just such a waste. Collins had only been three years older than him. They’d been in school together, in training at the same time. He’d covered his shifts for him when he went on his honeymoon, and when his eldest was born (he’d been director when the youngest entered the world. It was hard to reprimand a guy for failing to come into work without notice, when he was shoving baby pictures in your face, grinning like a loon and cooing like a bloody pigeon). They weren’t friends. But for all that history, for a whole person to just… stop... it was always a bit of a struggle to come to terms with initially. 

Everyone had their own ways for dealing with these sort of things. 

Percival fell into old habits. Ones he’d developed after his father was killed in the field, his mentor after him, his men during the war, his colleagues and then  _ his _ aurors over the years. 

He threw himself into his work. 

His name was likely mud nationwide because of it (he didn’t really care all that much if it was), but all the satellite offices were now submitting daily reports on criminal activity in their jurisdictions. 

With those reports he picked out suspicious or distinctly Grindelwald-esque activity and marked it on the map that they’d stuck up in the bullpen. The results were as illuminating as they were frustrating and worrying. 

“It’s all here,” Simpson had uttered that morning. “New York.”

“Well, no. There’s been a few things going on in Massachusetts,” Tina pointed out.

“But most of it’s in New York,” Simpson argued. “What do you reckon that means?”

“That whatever they’re up to, MACUSA is the target,” Percival had muttered, rubbing tiredly at his face. “Or that that’s what they want us to think.”

Simpson blinked. 

“Eh?”

“We’ve not got enough to go on yet to start jumping to conclusions,” he said. “Keep your mind open. We need to keep looking.”

But the more they looked, the more it seemed that they ought to be preparing for a full-on assault of MACUSA HQ. So he started drawing up preparations for such an event. He’d ended up spending an inordinate amount of time with Picquery as a result. That he could understand. The numerous other department heads though, the ones that really had no business taking part in such meetings, but insisted on contributing all the same, they both baffled and frustrated him. It wouldn’t be such an issue if they actually contributed something,  _ anything _ , useful to the discussion. But they never seemed to do so. One of the representatives of the treasury came very close once, but decided halfway into sharing his idea, that it would be far too expensive to be feasible, and then promptly refused to discuss it further.

Percival tried to see the positive in all things. Well no, that was a lie. He was hardly an optimist. But he tried to see the positive in  _ this _ situation. And the positive was, should Grindelwald conveniently decide to attack immediately after one of these meetings, there was no doubt in Percival’s mind that he would end him, and his little revolutionary movement, there and then.    
After spending hours locked in a room with people who openly cared more about money and political gain over silly matters like... saving people’s lives, or simply not endangering his people’s - Oh yes, Percival would kill the bastard with his bare hands. 

When he found himself getting a bit too close to staging a  _ purge _ among some of the senior staff of MACUSA, he decided to take on another project. That saw him spending a far more enjoyable afternoon with the Experimental Charms Unit, going over the design for a covert emergency alert system. The idea was to give his aurors some way to alert the rest of the team if they find themselves in a situation. 

They did have the watches, but that wasn’t exactly a well kept secret and not always a practical solution. 

No, this had to be on hand in all situations, easy to hide or disguise, easy to activate but not easy enough for it to be done by accident. They eventually settled for a ring. He left the rest of it to the experts, but felt a lot better about his life of service to the people and the general notion of government afterwards.

Of course his good mood didn’t last long. Because whenever he didn’t have Security Meetings with Picquery and the peanut gallery, and when he’d gone through all the reports from his people and the satellite offices, he had to carry on water-tightening the security of Collins’ Memorial Ceremony, which was set to take place that Saturday. 

On one hand, he did get to do this without input from the treasury department, the portkey office, No-Maj Liaison, the Obliviators Headquarters, or anyone else who took an interest, which cut down on a fair bit of the (murderous-rage-inducing) frustration. On the other hand, it was hardly a simple task. 

The first official MACUSA casualty of the Dark Wizard Gellert Grindelwald, it would be scandalous for it to be anything but a big affair. Which was fair enough. The issue was that  _ big affairs _ were rather notorious for being logistical and security nightmares. 

The President was going to be there for one, and anything that involved the President out in the open immediately became a pain in Percival’s arse. Then there were the reps from all of the other departments, and though some of them might deserve to be picked off, it was his job to see to it that didn’t happen. Then the entire auror department as well. In fact, most of the DMLE seemed determined to attend. Aurors from across the country were flying in to pay their respects. Collins family would also be there, his friends outside of work. Reporters too, a few foreign dignitaries and the usual who’s whos of the community. 

To put it simply, if he was a homicidal maniac bent on world domination, this would be exactly the sort of event he would go all in on. One good Expulso curse and the country would be crippled, no matter who it wiped out. 

Putting it very mildly, it was important that they got this right. That  _ he _ got it right.

He was in the middle of working on achieving just that when the door of his office swung open without warning, hours after he sent everyone home. 

He already had his wand in hand and aimed at the door as Tina backed into the room, a pot of steaming something in her mittened hands. 

He blinked, before slowly lowering his wand. 

“Tina?”

“Do not be alarmed,” Tina called over her shoulder as she guided a floating chair into the room. “We come bearing gifts. This, is  _ food _ . Do you remember food? It’s sort of like coffee, but better for you.”

Percival rolled his eyes as he rounded the desk. 

“I have a vague recollection,” he drawled. “What is it doing in my office though? And  _ we _ ?”

“Hello Mr Graves,” Queenie said cheerfully as she too floated a chair into the room while lifting a bottle of Gigglewater and three glasses up for him to see. “We’ve got drinks too!”

“So I see,” Percival drawled. “I may stick with the firewhiskey though, thank you.”

“You can have it,” Queenie said, wrinkling her nose as she shot the bottle in question a disapproving look. “All the same, a laugh a day is good for the soul.”

“Not so much for the reputation,” Percival drawled as he cleared a space on his desk when prompted by Tina to do so (more out of bemusement than anything else). “Again, what are you doing here?”

“Have you had dinner yet?” Tina asked. 

“I was going to pick something up later.”

“It’s 10 o’clock, so there’s your answer,” she replied, setting out bowls. 

Percival frowned. 

“You waited until 10 o’clock to have dinner?”

“We were hoping you’d see sense- not be as busy as you have been,” Tina replied, cutting herself off at her sister’s nudge to the ribs. 

Percival’s brows rose a little higher at that, but he found he was too tired to press the matter much further. 

“I don’t know what you two are up to-”

“Just dinner,” Queenie said, sitting down resolutely, Tina doing the same. “We promise.”

Percival hummed, unconvinced. 

“I’m going to be very cross if there’s a sleeping potion in here somewhere,” he drawled before sighing deeply and clearing a little more space for the three of them. “What did you make?”

“Beef stew with dumplings,” Tina said with a smile, clearly pleased with her little victory. “It’s a family recipe.”

“Exciting,” Percival drawled, lifting his bowl and uttering his thanks as Queenie served the stew out to all of them. “Any special occasion?”

“It’s just been a tough week,” Tina replied with a shrug. 

Percival hummed his agreement at that as he poured himself some firewhiskey. 

“It has, hasn’t it?” he yawned, shaking his head. “Damn tough week.”

Tina nodded wordlessly, staring at her dinner for a moment, before taking a bite. Percival and Queenie both followed her example.

They sat in silence for a while, focussing on their food and their own thoughts. There was a lot to go over, but Percival couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t exactly how the women had intended to be spending their dinner - which they’d gone to the trouble of making, then holding off from eating until the middle of the night, then bringing all the way to work, just to share it with him.

In spite of not being the one who started it, for once, Percival found himself casting through his mind for some way to try and break the solemn mood that had settled. It wasn’t exactly something he had a great deal of practice with. In fact, he was at a complete loss. Eventually he decided to resort to commenting on the weather, a segue he’d always despised, but it was the best he could do at short notice. Knocking back his drink, he decided to just go for it… only before he could get a word out, a laugh slipped out instead. 

He blinked. 

Tina blinked. 

In fact the only one who didn’t look surprised by the outburst was Queenie who was going bright pink as she attempted to hold back her own fits of giggles. 

“Queenie!” Tina cried once it all clicked in place in her head. 

At the same time Percival groaned, “Oh come on.”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

Percival scoffed and shook his head with decidedly more fondness than he probably would have a couple of weeks ago. Well it was one way of lifting the mood he supposed. 

All the same, justice needed to be served. 

“Then allow me to return the favour,” he drawled, filling the empty glass he’d just been slipped with firewhiskey and pushing it over to her. 

“Nooo,” Queenie groaned, pushing the glass back.

“Come on, Sis. It’s only fair,” Tina said, smirking as she lounged back in her chair. 

Queenie huffed. 

“But I hate Firewhiskey.”

“All the better,” Tina snickered as Percival nodded, an amused grin spreading across his face.

Queenie seemed to consider it for a moment, before sighing deeply and taking the glass.

Both Tina and Percival laughed as she took a sniff of the drink and promptly pulled a mighty face, a small puff of smoke coming out of her nostrils. 

“Alright give it here,” he eventually scoffed. 

“Soft-touch,” Tina drawled as Queenie grinned and handed the glass back. 

Percival shrugged as he took a sip from the drink before clicking his fingers. 

“Ah, whilst I remember, this is for you,” he said, taking a gold ring from his pocket and tossing it across the desk to her. 

Tina caught it, and looked it over with raised brows. 

“But Boss, this is all so sudden,” she drawled. 

“Funny,” Percival scoffed. “It’s an alert system I’ve been working on with the Experimental Charms Unit. This one’s just a prototype, but it needs testing out. Put it on,” he said, nodding for her to do so before taking out a second ring from his pocket and doing the same himself.

Once she was ready he went through the motions he’d been told would activate it. 

Tina startled and looked down at her hand. 

“Oh that’s strange,” she uttered. “It’s buzzing.”

Percival hummed. 

“Good. Tap it with your wand to make it stop,” he said. 

When she did, his buzzed once in response. 

“Well that all seems in order,” he said, before motioning for her to turn her hand over, palm up. 

“There should be an arrow.”

Tina nodded. 

“It’s pointing to you,” she said. 

“Good, it’s designed to lead you to the activated ring,” he said, getting to his feet and moving his hand in a circle around Tina’s, watching as the arrow on the underside of her ring tracked the movement. “We discussed making it something of a portkey-link but there seemed to be too big a risk of it being used as bait in a trap.”

“And then there’s the matter of legality.”

“Exactly. And to be quite honest I’m so sick of the law office at this point I could vomit,” he commented, drawing a laugh from both women. 

“Well that seems all in order,” he said as he sat back down. “You try. You got to tap it once with your thumb, twist it twice, tap it twice.”

Tina nodded, her brows knitted with concentration as she stared down at her ring and went through the motions. Soon enough Percival's ring was buzzing. He tapped it with his wand and smiled when he found the arrow pointing at her in turn. 

“Wonderful,” he muttered. “These should come in useful at some point I’m sure.”

Tina grinned back and nodded. 

“They’re fantastic. The Charms Unit came up with these in a couple of days?”

“They seemed quite enthusiastic to help out,” Percival replied with a shrug. “I may have gone over Hopkins head in this one, so don’t be alarmed if he comes down here for a bit of a shout.”

Tina scoffed at that as she studied her ring a moment longer before leaning back in her chair. 

“Do you want us to pretend we’ve never heard of you?”

“I’m afraid that act may be a hard sell,” Percival drawled. “It’s fine. I can take a bit of a yelling at.”

“Speaking of, Los Angeles is apparently very annoyed with us, particularly you,” Tina scoffed, giggling quietly as she took a sip of her drink. 

Queenie grinned and nodded. 

“Even we heard about that in Wands Permits,” she said. “Apparently Mr Nelson says you’re  _ “Cutting him off at the knees’ _ and  _ ‘Exactly what’s wrong with this country’ _ .”

Percival scoffed himself, shaking his head. 

“He’s just annoyed that I called him out on attempting to use the situation with Grindelwald for his own gain.”

Tina arched her brow. 

“Well that would do it,” she drawled. 

Percival rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

“Yes, he attempted to convince me that there is extensive Grindelwald activity occurring across California. Apparently there are groups of anarchists flagrantly flaunting Rappaports Law, to the same extent, if not exceeding the seriousness of the Obscurial incident here. He wants to be granted special powers to track apparition activity across the state, and authority to arrest on suspicion of anarchist activity.”

Tina’s brows shot up the more he revealed, and then higher when Queenie started to giggle, having clearly skipped ahead with his story. 

“Alright then, what’s the catch?” she laughed, folding her arms on the table.  

“Well he’s lying through his teeth,” Percival replied with a shrug. “The anarchist activity he’s talking about is the result of pop-and-drops coming back in fashion, nothing else. It’s little more than a grumpy old man wanting to single handedly beat the rebellion out of the ‘youth of today’. Watching him admit to it bit by bit was amusing. Not quite as amusing as watching him attempt to justify himself for exaggerating to such an extent.”

Tina scoffed, shaking her head despairingly. 

“He is a bit of a menace,” she sighed. “You’re gonna have to enlighten me to what Pop-and-drops are though.”

“You know Teenie, when you apparate up as high as you can and freefall to the ground,” Queenie giggled. 

“Oh, Drop-and-Stops!” Tina gasped, grinning. “I thought  _ we _ came up with that.”

“Everyone does,” Percival scoffed, shaking his head. “I’m sure the kids across California think they’re the first ones that ever came up with the concept too. But yes, all the huffing and puffing coming from LA is just Nelson throwing a tantrum about not being allowed to round up anyone between the ages of 17 and… probably 25, so he can charge them as terrorists. The man’s on another one of his power trips. One of his many.”

He shook his head despairingly. 

Tina scoffed and did the same, before pausing. 

“Hang on,” she said. “How do  _ you _ know about Drop-And-Stops?”

“And why are  _ you _ in favour of them?” Queenie pressed, though by the grin on her face she seemed to know the answer already.

“Well they were called Pop-And-Drops when I was younger,” Percival said with a shrug. “And I used to indulge now and then. We used to have competitions when Quidditch Practice got a bit dull actually. You can’t apparate in Illvermorny but you can fly up pretty high,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Got a nasty lashing for it when the History of Magic teacher caught us once.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing?” Tina uttered, shaking her head in disbelief. 

“What, I’m not allowed to have been young once?” Percival scoffed, before shrugging. “It’s good for combat too. Used it a few times to get a jump on the other sides guys during the war. They’re expecting apparition pops from a couple of feet up. You apparate about 50 feet up, they can’t hear it and you can usually clear out about half the squad before you have to slow yourself down again.”

“Well that puts a rather bloody spin on a perfectly innocent adolescent pastime,” Tina scoffed.

“You asked,” Percival replied with a shrug as he finished off his dinner. “I think that’s the best stew I’ve had in a very long time. Thank you.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Mr Graves,” Queenie replied with a warm smile. “We never get to share it with anyone, I’m glad you liked it.”

“I definitely did. But Queenie, we’re having dinner and drinks at 10 o’clock at night, your landlady thinks we’re related, I am temporarily boarding with the both of you and you’ve been properly inside my head, let’s just settle for Percival outside of work hours,” he yawned. 

Queenie smiled wider at that and nodded firmly. 

“Well then, you’re welcome, Percival,” she said. 

“That’ll take some getting used to,” Tina scoffed as she took a peek at some of the plans for the memorial. “How are these coming along?”

“Like a glacier,” Percival sighed, rubbing tiredly at his cheek. “It’s not so much difficult work as it is tedious. I’ve got to go over it all again and again, until I can’t find any holes. I’ll probably run it by all of you in the morning for an outside perspective. I’ve been looking at it for too long.”

Tina nodded. 

“Strange they’re not letting it be held here,” she said. 

“Too many people unfortunately,” Percival said. “And it was deemed too likely that people will interpret the decision as one made with convenience in mind, rather than security.”

He rolled his eyes before heaving a deep sigh. 

“No, it’s going to be held up on Beacon Mountain. There’s a monument to American aurors there. They use it for special occasions. Nice place for a memorial ceremony, under normal circumstances,” he said with a shrug. 

“If we can pull it off, it’s the perfect place,” he said, nodding. “Big  _ if _ though.”

“You think something’s going to happen?” TIna asked. 

Percival drew in a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks for a moment before shaking his head as he let it out. 

“I’ve got nothing to go on,” he said. “There’s not been any signs. I’ve just got a bad feeling about all of this.”

He knocked back the rest of his glass of whiskey before leaning back in his seat and brushing some of the hair that had fallen over his eyes back in place. “If MACUSA is the target, there will be no better time,  _ ever,  _ than this event. If I was waging this war, and my goal to seize control, I would find a way, any way, to attack. Even a half successful assault would critical.”

Tina grimaced and nodded, looking over the plans for a little longer before turning back to Graves. 

“Well then, we’ll just have to make sure there’s no way for him to attack,” she said simply. 

Percival scoffed, but nodded all the same. 

“Even if we have to Protego Maxima the entire mountain,” he drawled, before shaking his head and getting to his feet with a yawn. “But I don’t think there’s anything more to be done about it tonight. Right now, and believe me I know I’m opening myself up for ridicule here, but I think it’s time to get some rest.”

Tina smiled at that and got to her feet as well. 

“I think you may be onto something there, Boss.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who don't know and may be interested, you can check out my tumblr over here: qed221b.tumblr.com


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter guys. It was a bit of a tricky one. I hope you like it all the same!! 
> 
> As usual, thanks to everyone who has commented, you guys make my day/week/month every single time! I love hearing your thoughts and the parts you like and what you'd like to see more of. Thanks so much again!!
> 
> Hope you like the chapter :)

They were on him the second he hit the ground. He could feel them, their hands, running all over him even as he screwed his eyes shut. Running over his back, groping at his chest. Grasping his throat, cutting air from his lungs. Gripping the back of his neck, grabbing his hair, rubbing his face into the filth of the ground, like a dog in their own muck (even that was only a matter of time, he was sure). Slipping between his legs, no matter how much he squeezed them together to try and keep them away. Fingers pressing inside of him, more for the thrill of watching him react than any real intention of making the experience any less painful. 

“Look at him wriggle. Like a little worm.”

“Bet he fucking likes it. Freak!”

“Youngest director in history. You seriously reckon he didn’t bend over a few desks beforehand?”

“Shut up,” Percival snarled, his fists clench where they’d been bound at the small of his back.

“Well let’s face it, he’d not be here if it was done to skill alone? Would you Graves?”

He snarled and tried to fight back, to thrash free, but he couldn’t move. They had him pinned. His heart beat harder. He was trapped. 

There was screams echoing from somewhere. Somewhere out of sight. Out of reach. 

The men around him all laughed louder. To Percival it was deafening. He couldn’t hear anything but their laughter, distant screams, and the blood roaring in his ears. 

“Ah, that’s Wilson again. Bit of a screamer that one.” 

“I suppose it does hurt the young ones.”

“Leave him alone!”

“ _ You _ brought him here.”

“It’s  _ your _ fault.”

“ _ You _ practically handed him over. Him and Collins. Dead now isn’t he?”

“Hope he didn’t have a wife and children.”

“He did. They’ll be beside themselves, no doubt about it. You’ve ruined their lives too, Graves.”

“Bet his son got called into the headmaster’s office during breakfast too.”

“ _ Graves, sit down. Something’s happened.” _

“Will he sob like you did?”

“Collins, his wife, his son, his baby girl, and poor little Avery too, crying his lungs out down there. 

“He’s  _ definitely _ sobbing like you did.”

“Why aren’t you helping him?”

“It’s your fault.”

“It’s all because of you. Because you weren’t strong enough. Not fast enough.

“Wouldn’t have happened if you were half the wizard everyone thinks you are.”

“That  _ you _ thought you were.”

“ _ Fraud _ .”

“That’s the price you pay for arrogance, boy,” a voice snarled in his ear, sounding horribly like his old housemaster from Illvermorny. “You always have been arrogant, haven’t you? Did you honestly think you could protect them all? Like your father did. And his father.  _ The Graves legacy _ . Face the facts, Percival. You’re the weak link. I always said so. Now it’s time everyone else sees it for themselves. 

“They don’t know yet,” Grindelwald’s cold, cruel voice cooed in his other ear, sending shivers running down his spine. “But they will. I will show them. I’ll cut you down to size and put you on the stage for the whole world to see. You know why?”

A cold, rough hand wrapped around his throat, squeezing tight, cutting the air from his lungs.

“Because you deserve it. Arrogance like yours, it must be punished.”

Hands were running over him again and even as Percival thrashed in an effort to get them off, it wasn’t enough. It felt like he was fighting against water, or syrup. Too slow to be effective, to get away. 

“It‘s not over. Not until I say so. Not until I’m done. And I’m just getting started with you, my boy. I’m coming for you, Percival. I’m coming to get you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Percival woke with a loud gasp, covered in a cold sweat. He could still feel hands running over him, his chest, his neck, between his thighs.

A shiver wracked through his body as he squeezed his legs together tightly in an effort to get rid of the feeling, dragging in heaving gasps for air like a drowned man all the while.

He rolled over onto his back and froze. 

For a second, no, a fraction of a second, there was someone sitting on the landing outside the window. There were mismatched blue eyes looking in, staring down at him. There was a wide, cruel grin floating in the black mass of a silhouette, leering at him, disembodied and unnatural, like the cat from those ridiculous stories Theseus had been so fond of all those years ago. 

He saw it all as clear as day. And then, a second later, he didn’t. It just… blinked out of existence.

Choking on air he forced himself to his feet, wand grasped tight in his hand as he stumbled over to the window and yanked it open, only to confirm it. There was nobody on the landing, nor was there anyone on the ones above it or below. In all likelihood, there never had been. 

His legs gave out beneath him and he fell to the floor with a thump, his wand rolling away from him and under the bed. He scrambled desperately after it. In the back of his mind, the small section that managed to stay more or less calm, he knew he must look a complete fool. But that wasn’t enough to stop him crawling on his hands and knees as quick as he could, trying to squeeze himself under the small gap beneath the bed to reach his wand. Because he couldn’t not have his wand. He couldn’t let himself be vulnerable like that. He couldn’t let his guard down. The second he did, they’d come. They’d come for him and they’d take him again and they’d- they’d-

The hands were back, touching him in places that made his stomach jump and roll horribly inside. He felt like he was going to be sick. A quiet, wretched moan slipped from his lips between gasps as he grasped desperately into the darkness. 

“Accio wand,” he whispered desperately as he carried on snatching at air. 

Something clattered in the alley outside and Percival thought his heart actually stopped in response. He whipped around and again, for a fraction of a second there was a figure there at the window, and then there wasn’t. It was all in his head, it was all in his head. It was all in his head.

“Accio wand.  _ Acciowand _ .  _ Acciowandaccioaccio- _

Something that sounded horribly like a sob ripped itself from his throat as his wand remained stubbornly out of sight and out of grasp. The magic that usually came so naturally to him wasn’t coming either. He couldn’t focus enough. He was defenseless. If they came for him right now, they’d have no trouble taking him. They’d take him and they’d do it to him again. They’d do it all to him again and he didn’t think he could survive it another time around.

The world was starting to swim around him. His head felt light, his chest was aching, his throat burned. He couldn’t think. He felt like he was drowning, choking on air. He could hear his heart in his ears, he couldn’t breathe. Mercy Lewis, he was dying. He had to be dying!

The hands were back. Touching him, grabbing him and pulling him from under the bed! Except this time it wasn’t in his head, because he was, in fact, being dragged across the room.  

They’d come for him! It wasn’t in his head! They’d come and he couldn’t fight them. His wand was- He had to get his wand! He needed his wand!

With all his might he tried to drag himself under the bed, but his body was betraying him. He could barely summon the strength to claw at the floorboards as he was pulled away from his only weapon, his only hope. 

He deserved this. If he was as weak as this he deserved everything that was to come. 

There was nothing he could do as he was rolled onto his back but hook his ankles together and squeeze his legs shut, his eyes screwed up all the while, waiting. Waiting for the pain. Waiting for the invasion. Waiting. Waiting. 

But it never came. There were hands in his hair though. Gentle hands, fingers combing through. Which was odd.

_ “Shhhh, it’s alright, honey. It’s alright, I’ve got you. Just breathe.” _

_ Honey _ ? They’d never called him  _ honey _ before. They’d called him plenty of other things, vulgarities and bastardizations of similar pet names, but never ‘honey’. 

Still wheezing desperately for air, he cracked open an eye. When he recognised who was, in fact, holding him he could have fainted with relief there and then.

“Queenie?” he gasped. 

“Of course. Who else was you expecting?” Queenie said with a warm smile, like all in the world was fine, like there was nothing to worry about after all. 

And that wasn’t true, but Percival couldn’t help but find himself settling a bit in spite of himself. 

He was alright. If Queenie was here and smiling, then he was alright, for now. For now he was okay.

“That’s right, nice deep breaths,” Queenie said, her voice quiet and soothing as she took both his hands and brought them up to rest on his chest, over his still pounding heart. “I’ve got you. You’re alright, you’re safe,” she said, folding her hands on top of his. “Nobody’s gonna get you.”

The panic was starting to recede. He could breathe again. He wasn’t dying. He’d never been dying. Mercy Lewis, all of this over a bad dream?! He really was pathetic. As a child he’d handled these things better. And now, when he should be in his prime, his most capable, he ended up weeping and terrified in the dark. Grindelwald had been right about him. Professor Cousins had been right.

“Don’t think that,” Queenie scolded, rubbing her thumb in soothing circles over his wrist. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’re hardly the first person in the world to have an episode like this. Far from the first. And you’re  _ definitely  _ aint the first to feel like you’re dying because of it.”

“That’s all well and good, but I’ve got the lives of thousands of people in my hands,” Percival wheezed, screwing his eyes shut again. “I can’t keep falling apart like this. I don’t have the right to.”

He’d kill them all. His arrogance. His delusions of grandeur. It was going to kill them all. He wasn’t his father, he was the weak link and he was breaking. 

“Percival, honey,” Queenie uttered, and he could hear the concern in her voice. “You’re just a man. You’re  _ human _ .”

“My humanity is making me very ineffective,” Percival uttered, screwing his eyes shut tighter as he focused on his breathing, until finally it started to calm down and even out. He scrubbed roughly at his face, letting out a deep breath as he felt his body finally beginning to settle. 

He pushed himself upright, Queenie helping until he was leaning heavily back against the wall, still trembling but at least a little more in control of himself.

Tipping his head back against it, he let out a deep sigh, then a humourless laugh. 

“I thought I was getting better,” he muttered, shaking his head. 

“I think you are,” Queenie replied defiantly as she sat down in front of him, like she had when they were going through his head, his memories. “But these things, they come in waves. Jacob says.”

“What would Jacob know?” Percival muttered. 

“He went to war as well, you know?” Queenie said, frowning at him. “No-Maj’s can do awful things to each other as well.”

Percival grimaced and looked away, cowed by the rebuke, no matter how gentle it was. He was just feeling sorry for himself now, which was hardly going to help anyone, and it was definitely not going to make him any less pathetic. 

Breathing in deeply, he turned back to Queenie and inclined his head. 

“You’re right,” he uttered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be dismissive.”

“Apology accepted,” Queenie said with a grin, sitting up straighter. 

Percival shook his head and scoffed softly at that. He couldn’t help but be bemused by the woman sometimes. She must see and hear so much, and yet she just… bounced back from it all. Maintained that positive outlook, thought the best of people,  _ forgave _ . Percival couldn’t help but think that if he could do what she could, it would just make him more jaded than he already was. 

He flinched when Queenie reached over and rubbed his raised knees gently, but settled soon enough, letting out another deep breath. 

“Like I said, it comes in waves,” she said, shooting him a warm smile. “You’ve just got to go with it, and stop being so hard on yourself. You’re not  _ pathetic _ for feeling things.”

“I feel like I’m drowning,” Percival muttered, shutting his eyes. 

“Then hold your breath until you come back up to the surface,” Queenie replied. “We’re not gonna let you drown. Teenie and me, we’re here for you. It’s not the same as before, alright? We’re a team now. You’re not alone.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment as they sat there in the dark, Percival sitting heavily against the wall, feeling weak from his latest attack, his first in what felt like so long - Queenie sitting before him, lending him her strength, her support. And somehow, it seemed to do the job, because slowly but surely Percival started to feel a little less in pieces as he had before. 

“I know,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Can’t figure out why, but I don’t doubt it.”

“Because you deserve to have someone in your corner,” Queenie replied, before patting his knee with a wide smile. “And now we’re here I’m afraid there’s no getting rid of us.”

“Yes, I’m getting that impression as well,” Percival commented, smiling a little wider when Queenie gasped and slapped his leg reproachfully before getting to her feet. 

“Come on Mister. If you aint gonna go get some more sleep I think we’re both gonna need a cup of coffee,” she said, offering him a hand up. 

Percival paused for a moment, drawing in a calming breath through his nose before reaching over to the bed. Now he could focus his wand scooted out and into his fingers within the second. Sighing he gripped it for a moment, letting its presence soothe him just a little more, before turning back to Queenie. 

“Sounds good to me,” he muttered, taking her hand.

“Did I wake you up?” he asked as they walked into the kitchen. 

“Not entirely,” Queenie replied, shaking her head. “I was having trouble sleeping anyway. Everyone’s thinking about such horrible things at work recently. I don’t blame them but it gets a bit too much sometimes,” she commented as she set the kettle to boil. 

Percival grimaced sympathetically and nodded. 

“I can imagine,” he said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask. Too preoccupied with my own thoughts.”

“It’s alright, honey. You don’t need to check in on me,” Queenie said with a warm smile. 

“We’re a team apparently,” Percival replied, arching his brow. “That goes two ways.”

Queenie smiled brightly at that. 

“I suppose,” she laughed as she brought a pair of mugs down from the cupboard with a wave of her wand. 

Percival shot a small smile back himself as he sent over the sugar and milk before leaning back against the table. “How are you coping since…” he trailed off, trying to think of the right words for a moment, before just settling for tapping the side of his head. 

Queenie seemed to get the message though. 

“I’m alright,” she said. “I’m won’t lie, it weren’t no fun.”

“I’d be a bit concerned if you thought it was, to be honest,” Percival said. 

“Right?” Queenie laughed, before sobering once more. “It weren’t fun. But I’m glad we did it. That it worked and that it helped you track down Mr Collins and Avery. Even if it was a bit too late for Mr Collins.”

Percival grimaced and nodded. 

“If nothing else, his family know now, one way or another,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And Avery was spared even more torment at their hands, even if he suffered far too much already.”

“Was it anything like… well…”

“He wasn’t hanging from a meathook, but yes, more or less the same breed of abuse,” Percival replied.

“Poor thing,” Queenie uttered, eyes wide and sad. “You’ll be there for him, won’t you?”

“As much as he allows me to be,” Percival replied, nodding. “Failing that the others are all determined to be there for him as well, which will likely be better received.”

“Oh?”

“Well, having your boss doting on you is uncomfortable at the best of times. It’s so out of the norm it just serves as a reminder of what’s happened to create this situation. Your friends being there for you, that’s a little less jarring,” he said with a shrug. “That said, I’ll do what I can. Of course. It’s the least I can do.”

Queenie frowned a little at that. 

“Honey, this aint your fault,” she said. 

“I know,” Percival lied. He really didn’t feel like an argument about his culpability in all of this. 

Queenie either believed or took mercy on him (he was inclined to think the latter) as she just nodded and went back to making the coffee. 

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Anyway,  _ you _ . Are you sure you’re alright. I know the stuff in my head, it’s not exactly rose gardens. I hope it’s not contributed too much to the unpleasantness of this week for you,” he said. 

Queenie smiled warmly and shook her head. 

“You know, you’re quite sweet,” she teased. “But I’m alright. You don’t gotta worry about me. I’m not gonna say it was easy watching. But that’s just cos I wish it never happened. At least this way I could help a little,” she said, nodding firmly. 

The corner of Percival’s lips twitched a little at that. 

“You’d have made a pretty decent auror in another life, you know?” he drawled. “You’ve got the heart for it.”

“But all that paperwork,” Queenie said, wrinkling her nose at the thought.

Percival scoffed, nodding. 

“It does kill the buzz a bit, yes,” he chuckled, ducking his head briefly before looking back up. “Still, I feel compelled to comment on courage when I see it.”

“Sweet-talker,” Queenie replied with a wide smile, before sobering after a moment once again. “It’s not quite as bad as it has been in the past. When I was in school and the war was going, it was really bad. People are scared now, but back then, they was scared and hurting and angry too. When someone’s father died, or brother, or uncle, it was the worst.”

She bit her lip and turned away. 

“That sounds horrible of me, doesn’t it?” she whispered.

“Not at all,” he replied. “I understand. I’ve been around people, when they got news that their brother or father, or their sons have been killed, somewhere on a battlefield far away. Or their families were killed when they should have been safe and waiting at home. It is horrible, and I had the privilege of just seeing what was on the surface.”

Queenie shot him a small, sad smile at that and nodded. 

“People are always easiest to read when they’re hurting,” she said softly. “It pours out.”

“Sounds overwhelming,” Percival muttered, frowning a little as he thought about what was waiting for them in a few hours. “Are you sure that you should come today?” he asked. 

Queenie bit her lip. 

“I want to,” she said. “Mr Collins, he was a lovely man. To everybody. And what happened to him, and poor Avery too, it was so horrible. It feels… unforgivable if I didn’t go, just because it is a bit unpleasant for me.”

Percival smiled as he accepted the cup from her, sitting down at the table when she did.

“That’s admirable of you, but I think you should give it a miss,” he said, shaking his head when she went to argue. “I expect you will find it both an unpleasant and infuriating exercise if you feel like that.”

Queenie frowned a little. 

“Tina did mention you weren’t very happy with how the plans were turning out,” she said, taking a sip from her cup. 

Percival grimaced and nodded. 

“They’ve made it political,” he replied, nose wrinkling in disgust. “We’re calling it a memorial, but it’s become more of an anti-Grindelwald rally. Merlin knows I’m not against one of those, but not on the grave of one of my men,” he muttered. He wrinkled his nose. “Everyone who’s anyone will be there. To  _ pay their respects _ . I’ve seen some of the people who are coming. Most never met Collins. That I can live with. But there are a number of them that have publicly sneered at our department, called us the president's dogs, thugs and brutes for hire. And then here they are, treating one of ours falling as a reason to throw a party, to pull out their flags and banners and pretend their part of the resistance. To act brave in the face of danger, but only when they have a line of  _ the presidents dogs _ between them and that danger. It makes my blood boil.”

He drew in a deep breath through his nose before shaking his head. “Next week, the MID is planning to go to Beacon Mountain ourselves. I expect a good part of the DMLE will end up being invited. As you said, Collins was kind to everybody. You should come to  _ that _ ceremony, it’s what it should be. People who knew him, honouring his sacrifice. Not people who never heard of him, coming so they can be seen attending, or so they can say they were there.”

Queenie’s brows were knitted together thoughtfully, clearly still a little troubled by the idea of not going to the main ceremony.

Percival smiled at her and set his cup down, ducking his head to catch her eye. 

“Queenie, I’d really appreciate it if you give today a miss. Come next week, pay your respects then. Nobody will hold it against you.”

“You really think something’s going to happen today, don’t you?” she asked. 

Percival heaved a deep sigh. 

“I’ve not got any evidence,” he replied. “Just a bit of a gut feeling.”

“We put a lot of stock by gut feelings in this household,” Queenie said with a small smile, though it wavered a little at the edges. She was afraid for her sister, of course. 

Percival shot her his most reassuring smile and nodded. 

“If the worst happens, we should be ready,” he said. “And if not, then I stand by it being a commandeered event. For what it’s worth,  _ I’ll _ feel a lot better with you sitting this one out. I’m sure Tina will say the same if you ask her. We’ll be able to focus much better.”

Queenie paused a moment longer, before nodding at last. 

“Alright then,” she said. “I’ll stay. If you’re sure. But I definitely want to come to next week.”

“You will definitely come next week,” Percival replied, pressing a hand to his heart. “I promise, I’ll side-along with you myself.”

Queenie shot him an amused smile at that and nodded. 

“Well that settles it,” Queenie said, sipping her coffee before turning as Tina walked into the room. 

“What are you two doing up so early?” she drawled, arching her brow. 

“Plotting dastardly things,” Percival deadpanned, leaning back in his chair as Queenie snorted into her cup. 

Tina rolled her eyes. 

“You’re a bad influence on each other, you really are,” she muttered as she set about making herself a cup.    
  
  


* * *

  
  


The ceremony guests were slowly starting to roll in, grumbling bitterly all the while about the security measures that had been put in place. 

“You’d think they’d have a bit more patience, considering what we’re here for,” Tina muttered as she and Percival patrolled along the treeline that surrounded the peak of the mountain they’d gathered on.

Percival scoffed. 

“In my experience, people always hate having to be extra-cautious, right up until caution is no longer enough,” he drawled, as Simpson and Chambers weathered something of a tongue lashing from an old witch who opposed to having her bag checked. “Then they question why more measures weren’t taken earlier.”

Tina snorted a little at that, before heaving a deep sigh. She didn’t say anything, but it certainly looked like she wanted to. 

Percival arched his brow, holding his own silence for a moment, before prompting, “Yes?”

“I just can’t believe we’ve not gotten anything out the creeps we nabbed at the slaughterhouse,” she huffed. “We got over a dozen of them. That many people can’t be that good at hiding information.”

“They were probably deliberately kept in the dark,” Percival replied with a shrug. “I’m afraid we just netted a whole bunch of small fish.”

Tina sniffed, grumpily stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat.

“Typical,” she muttered. 

“Not that much of a surprise though,” Percival replied. 

“No, I guess not,” Tina replied, sighing again, before pausing. 

Percival had spotted it too. One of the guests had slipped away from the group and was making a break for the treeline.

“Aren’t people supposed to be sneaking in, not sneaking out?” she uttered, frowning. 

Percival hummed thoughtfully, glancing around the group that had gathered so far. Everyone seemed to be in place, until he spotted Mrs Collins looking around the crowd, her daughter in her arms and eldest son nowhere to be found. 

He sighed. 

“Can you go reassure Mrs Collins that her son isn’t in any danger and will be with her momentarily,” he said.

Tina sighed heavily, a sympathetic grimace on her face as she nodded and they split ways: Tina to Mrs Collins; Percival after the boy. 

It didn’t take too long at all to track him down. 

He cleared his throat as he walked into the small clearing among the trees, looking around them to give the kid some privacy as he rubbed roughly at his face upon realising he wasn’t alone. 

“It’s not very safe for you to be out here, Edmund,” he commented after a moment, turning to face him properly. “Unless you’ve managed to smuggle your wand out of school. And even then.”

Edmund Collins got to his feet, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his black coat as he glared back mutinously. 

“Well, nothing happened,” he muttered. “No need to worry.”

Percival hummed. 

“Just needed a moment?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” the boy muttered, brows furrowing a little more. 

Percival nodded, turning his attention back to their surroundings once again. He grimaced. They really were sitting ducks here. Out in the open for anyone to sneak up on. The wards that had been put in place wouldn’t protect them here. He was quick on the draw but the element of surprise was up for anyone who may be lurking to take. They really needed to get back to the others. 

“The ceremony is about to start,” he said in an effort to make that happen. 

Edmund snorted derisively at that. 

“Oh yes,  _ the ceremony _ ,” he muttered, balling his fists in his pockets. “We mustn’t miss  _ the ceremony _ . Everyone needs their little opportunity to lie through their teeth on stage.”

Percival arched his brow at that, slowly turning his attention back to the boy. After a moment he decided that honesty was likely the best policy here. 

“I’m afraid so,” he replied, inclining his head. “At least a number of them. There will be a few of your father’s colleagues speaking though. They will be genuine.”

Edmund sniffed again, looking angrier at the prospect than he had at that of pandering strangers. 

“Will they?” he drawled, his chin rising stubbornly (just like his father, Percival couldn’t help but note). “Will they speak of his skill with magic, his sense of duty, and how  _ brave _ he was?”

Percival sighed deeply. He already knew where this conversation was going, but he could tell just as easily that Edmund Collins needed to have it. He needed to get this off his chest, because Merlin only knew he likely wouldn’t get another chance. Not with an adult. Not with someone outside of the family. He’d likely been told a dozen times over that he was man of the family now, that he needed to be strong, be there for his mother and his sister, look after them. It was a massive weight to shoulder, and lashing out was not conducive to doing so (and if Edmund was anything like his father had always boasted, he would take the responsibility seriously). 

The kid needed a release, so Percival played his part. He lifted his own chin, and replied calmly, “They’ll be right to say so. Your father was an incredibly brave man. He did what was right, right until the very end.”

“And what if I don’t care?” Edmund snarled, the rage that had clearly been simmering away beneath the surface bubbling up. “What if I couldn’t give a damn how brave he was? What if I  _ hate _ how brave he was? If he hadn’t been brave I wouldn’t be speaking in past tense. If he’d just been a banker or a shopkeeper, none of this would have happened!”

The boy started to pace, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. 

“But no, he had to be the hero. He just had to go chase glory, had to just go and  _ ask for trouble _ . Well he got it! I hope he’s happy being the hero now because I’m bloody not!”

Percival sighed deeply, running a hand tiredly through his hair as the kid, who in spite of his rage was clearly distraught, turned his back to him. 

Shaking his head he stepped forward. 

“Edmund,” he uttered. “I understand-”

In fairness, he didn’t think the kid meant the whack him. The back of his hand just connected with his cheek as he whirled around to face him again. That said he definitely didn’t look sorry that it happened, nor when he grabbed the front of Percival’s coat and shoved him back hard, pinning him up against one of the nearby trees. 

Percival grit his teeth, forcing back the instinct to immediately force the other man, no,  _ boy _ away. To send him flying across the clearing with all the power he could summon. Fortunately he managed to keep it under control, and Edmund carried on glaring furiously at him, seemingly unaware of the danger he’d just put himself in.

“You don’t understand anything!” Edmund snarled, shoving him again for emphasis. “You don’t!”

“I understand it feels that way,” he replied calmly, holding the boy’s angry gaze as he spoke. “I understand it feels like nobody in the world has any idea what you’re feeling right now. I understand you resent that everyone else seems to just be going on with their day, like the world isn’t falling apart, because theirs isn’t. It’s just you and you can’t fix it. And there’s nothing fair about it.”

He sighed heavily. 

“I understand, Edmund.”

The boy was panting for breath, glaring hatefully at him, and Graves held his gaze. Held it for a while, before stepping forward when the kid’s walls eventually did start to crumble, his breath hitching before collapsing against him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. 

“Why did this happen?” Edmund sobbed, pressing his face into his shoulder.

Percival heaved a deep sigh as he rubbed the kid’s back.

“Because your father was a brave man,” he murmured. “Because he understood that sometimes the cost of doing the right thing is steep, but that didn’t mean that it still wasn’t the right thing to do. Because he wanted to make the world just a little bit safer, for you, and you sister and mother.” 

Edmund sobbed. He sobbed for a while. Percival held him as he did, rubbing the kid’s back all the while. He wasn’t sure it was helping, wasn’t sure if there was anything that would help right this moment, but it was the best he could muster. 

Eventually, the kid’s tears seemed to dry up and he took a couple of steps back.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, rubbing his face, red and sticky with tears. “I… shouldn’t be blubbering like this.”

“Crying isn’t anything to apologise for,” Percival said, gently nudging the kid over to the trunk of a fallen tree, sitting down beside him once he settled. He loosened his tie, undoing the first couple of buttons as well. “I cried when my father died.”

“How old were you?” Edmund asked. “When your… when-”

“16,” Percival replied. “He was on a raid, his team was outnumbered. He was the senior member, first in, last out,” he said, shrugging. “He didn’t get out.”

“His team?”

“They all survived,” he replied, nodding. “He bought them enough time. Like your Father bought his junior enough time.”

Edmund nodded jerkily at that. 

“His junior… he’ll survive?” he asked. 

“The healers seem confident he’ll make a full recovery in time,” Percival replied, nodding.

“Good,” Edmund uttered, hanging his head as he drew in deep, calming breaths. For another little while, they sat in silence, the distant murmured of the gathering ahead of them and the usual woodland noises all to be heard.  

Edmund rubbed roughly at his face again.

“I want to kill him,” he muttered darkly, scowling down at the leaves beneath his shoes. “Grindelwald. I want to… I want to smash his head in. I want to do it with my own hands. I want to wrap my hands around his neck, and bash his head against the ground until nothing is left,” he snarled, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. “I want him to die and I want it to be without magic. He doesn’t deserve to die like a wizard.”

He bowed his head some more. 

“Is that normal?” he uttered. “I’m not... usually like this.” 

“It’s normal,” Percival replied simply. “I’ve found we go through different emotions when we grieve. Rage always seems to work its way in there somewhere.”

Edmund nodded, though Percival was pleased to see some of the tension drain from his shoulders. 

“Even there I think he’d be getting of easy,” he commented. 

Edmund scoffed softly, nodding. For another moment, silence fell again, until he lifted his head again, meeting Percival’s eyes. He seemed calm, for the time being. Completely so. 

“They say he’s got a fixation on you, Mr Graves,” he said. “I heard the others talking. They said he keeps coming back, keeps hunting you down.”

Percival arched his brow a little at that, not entirely sure where the conversation was going, but inclined his head all the same. 

“It seems that way,” he replied evenly.

Edmund nodded. 

“I won’t get my chance,” he said. “We both know it. And if I did… it wouldn’t end well. But you...Next time he comes, Sir, the next time he shows his face, make him regret it.  _ Bitterly. _ Make him pay, for what he did to my father, and every other person he’s hurt along the way. Make. Him. Pay.... Please.”

Percival nodded firmly back. 

“You have my word,” he said solemnly, before pushing back so he was sitting properly. 

“Thank you,” Edmund uttered.

He got back to his feet, rubbing at his face a little more before breathing in a deep lungful of fresh air. “We… we should get to the ceremony, right?”

“Right,” Percival replied, nodding as he got up as well, refastening his tie and smoothing down his coat before… freezing.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up suddenly. It almost felt like someone was watching them, but when he looked around, apart from a couple of squirrels and a barn owl, there wasn’t anyone in sight.

“Mr Graves?” Edmund uttered, a note of fear in his voice. 

Percival frowned some more, before shaking his head. 

“Come on, let’s get back to the others,” he said, pressing a hand to the back of the boy’s shoulders as they made their way the short distance between the clearing and the assembly, fortunately without incident.

He couldn’t help but scoff when he spotted Tina at the edge of the perimeter, looking something like a meerkat as she craned her neck this way and that trying to spot them. Even from a distance, she very obviously sagged with relief when she eventually did. 

“You should probably get back to your mother, Edmund,” he said as they crossed the perimeter, seemingly the last to arrive, as his team started to cast the protective spells around them. 

Edmund grimaced and nodded. 

“Yeah,” he uttered. “...Thanks, for… for listening sir. And I’m sorry for…” he bowed his head. “I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.”

“It’s alright,” Percival replied. “Things are going to be tough for a while Edmund, particularly in the coming weeks. Just try and take care of yourself, alright? You can’t take care of anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Edmund bit his lip for a moment and nodded, glancing away again. 

“Yes sir,” he uttered. “I will.”

Percival patted his shoulder once more. 

“Good,” he said. “All the same,” he pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to him. “In case you need anything. Or just need to vent. I can’t claim I’m the best pen pal in the world, but the offer’s there.”

Edmund smiled a little and nodded, taking the card. 

“Thank you, Mr Graves,” he uttered, before glancing over at his mother who was looking a bit worried. “I’ve gotta go.”

Percival nodded, stepping back as the kid slipped away through the crowd. 

“You big softy.”

“I’m gnarled and bitter and I won’t have you saying otherwise,” he drawled, glancing over when Tina stepped up beside him (he ignored the scoff).

“How is he?” she asked. 

“Upset,” Percival sighed. “And angry, but mostly upset.”

“That’s normal I guess,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I was angry, when Ma and Pa died. They weren’t even killed by anyone.”

Percival nodded. 

“It seems to be normal,” he replied. “I think it’s anger at the situation, regardless of how it came about.”

He drew in a deep breath as Picquery stepped up and started to call everyone to order. 

“Did everything go smoothly while I was gone?” he asked. 

Tina nodded. 

“There was a bit of fuss over a couple more handbags, one fella had fireworks up his sleeve.”

“Fireworks?”

“Wanted to really stick it to Grindelwald by celebrating like the no-maj’s do with their Independence Day,” Tina said with a shrug. “I dunno, I think he just likes fireworks. But it took a bit of convincing for him to let those be. Other than that, mostly smooth. Nobody had anything on them from what we could tell, and nobody changed faces when checked with  _ revelio _ .”

Percival hummed, the strange feeling he’d gotten in the woods still weighing on his mind. 

“What?” Tina asked, frowning. 

“Nothing really,” he said. “I’ll just feel a lot better when all of this is over.”

Tina smiled grimly and nodded. 

“Same here, boss,” she said. “But still, the whole peak’s got anti-apparition charms on it, we’ve protego maxima’d the immediate area. Short of setting up a… thundercloud of  _ Thief’s Downfall _ I’d say we’ve done all we can to give ourselves the best odds if the worst happens.”

She nudged his arm. 

“You’ve spent all week going over this. It’s as air-tight as it’s going to get.”

Percival grimaced a little but nodded all the same.  

“Let’s just hope they’re unnecessary precautions,” he muttered, shooting Tina a quick smile before the both of them wandered over to gather with the others as Picquery begun the proceedings. First with with compliments of Collins’ achievement and his bravery, then condemnation of the brutality of Gellert Grindelwald and his movement. 

The whole ceremony ended up turning out like that and it was much more aggravating than he anticipated it would be. 

Each speaker that stepped up followed the same routine. They offered a few words of respect for Collins and sympathy for his family (some more heartfelt than others), before rallying up against Grindelwald. He’d been expecting it, but watching it happen, watching how the focus shifted swiftly from the murdered to the murderer, it was making his blood positively boil.

He didn’t seem to be the only one that thought so either.

“Fucker mentioned him once,” Malik growled as he wandered over. “One sentence. Does he even know what this is?”

“It’s a disgrace, that’s what it is,” Chambers muttered, glaring up at the man rambling on about the  _ American spirit _ up at the podium. “Thank Morgana’s tits Wilson couldn’t make it.”

“-And we will triumph!” the speaker called out, pumping his fist a couple times in the air as people clapped and cheered their approval as he left the stand.

Percival shook his head and let out a despairing sigh. 

“This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered in disgust. 

“If the next person doesn’t dedicate at least 30 seconds to Robert I’m gonna hex them here and now, I swear,” Tina muttered, folding her arms tight over his chest. 

“I have half a mind to let you-”

“Director Graves, would you like to say a word?” Picquery called, cutting him off. 

Percival froze, the others beside him. 

“...Un-be-lievable,” he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes a little as he drew in a deep breath and reluctantly made his way over to the front of the crowd.

“Thanks for the warning,” he muttered under his breath as he passed Picquery.

“Your aurors are about to hex something if somebody doesn’t give a decent speech soon,” Picquery muttered back. “Be sincere.”

Percival shot an annoyed glare over his shoulder, reminding himself firmly that hexing the president went pretty blatantly against his job description (and even still, too many witnesses) as he stepped up to the podium himself. 

_ Be sincere _ . Very well then. He could do that.

“Robert Collins deserved better,” he said simply, sweeping his gaze severely across the crowd. “He dedicated his life to protecting others. As an auror, as a friend, as a father and husband.”

He lifted his chin, folding his hands behind his back. 

“I’m not going to lie and say that we were best friends. I was his boss, and for years before that, his colleague. But I did spend 20 years fighting beside him. And when you spend that long, bleeding and risking all with a person, you get a measure of the sort of man or woman they are. In my opinion Robert Collins’ bravery was matched only by one other quality, and that was his compassion. His compassion for the victims, whom he strove to seek justice for. His compassion for his colleagues, who, like him, have all seen far,  _ far _ too much of the worst of humanity. His compassion for those who had strayed from society’s path, fallen through the cracks, but in his eyes, were worth the effort in saving. It was his bravery and his compassion that made him a true auror, and this a agonising loss for all those who truly knew him.

“The wizarding community lost a good man. Yes, we lost him to a monster. Yes that monster is now a risk to us all. No, I will not speak of him further, because  _ today _ shouldn’t be about him.  _ Today  _ we should be focusing on a man who spent, and ultimately gave his life, trying to make this world better, safer, for all of us.” He shook his head despairingly, before turning his attention back to the crowd once more. “He deserved better than this,” he said, before moving to step off the stage. 

The aurors in attendance seem to approve. Edmund too clapped, as did a few of the other attendants. From the rest, beyond a few uncertain claps there was silence. Good. It was about time people remembered why they were here.

Piquery rolled her eyes as she approached.

“Very diplomatic,” she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

“You said be sincere,” Graves muttered out of the corner of his, before both their’s, and the rest of the group’s attention, was caught by a new round of applause... from beyond the barriers. 

People started screaming around them as a swarm of strangers strolled out from the treeline, jeering and clapping mockingly. Percival’s hand fell to his wand when he spotted one particular face among them. 

“Beautiful Speech, my boy! Beautiful!” Gellert Grindelwald called, laughing as he stepped to the front of the newcomers. “If only you could spot the irony.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooooooooooooooooooo soooo incredibly sorry for how long this took. This chapter was THE DEVIL!! It just didn't want to be written. 
> 
> On the plus side, the next should be out much quicker because, in an effort to get this one in order, I've already gotten down about half of it. 
> 
> So sorry again guy, but I hope you like it all the same. And as always, thank you so much to everyone who commented. You guys are incredible and I honestly wish I could properly put into words how much each of your comments mean to me. I love hearing your thoughts and what parts you like. Seriously you all make my day so much better!! Thanks again and I promise the next chapter will be much quicker.

Grindelwald’s eyes locked with Percival’s, his face alive with malicious glee as he loitered by the edge of the treeline that stood across from where they’d gathered. 

Conversely Percival’s head filled with an icy numbness that penetrated down to his very core. He was vaguely aware of people screaming around him but he couldn’t focus on them.

So this was it. This was Grindelwald’s big plan. To take the country by force. To strike the heart of their government while they were all in one place. It was exactly what he’d expected. 

The icy cold dread receded a fraction as the wheels in his head began to turn properly once again. 

It was  _ exactly _ what he’d expected. Down to the letter. 

And that there - that just felt off. 

Since he’d come into the public eye, Grindelwald had been consistently unpredictable. The man struck like a viper - violently and without warning. All of Percival’s past interactions with him backed that observation up.

And yet here he was - announcing himself before making his move. While they were still behind cover. Putting his side onto equal footing with their’s, if not at a disadvantage. 

No. This was all wrong. It was a trap. It  _ had _ to be. 

The bastard either had something else in mind, or he had, in fact, already made his first move and they just didn’t know it yet. 

Either way, there was more to this than they were seeing. Percival would bet his wand on it. And that thought was more than enough to shake him from his stupor. 

Pushing his way through the mass of panicking people, he climbed back up onto the stage to get a better look at what they were dealing with. 

Beyond Grindelwald a mass of witches and wizards had gathered, each of their faces obscured by masks and hoods of some kind. Their wands were drawn, and they were all shifting anxiously, chomping at the bit for a fight… yet they remained behind Grindelwald. It made for an ominous presence, certainly. But tactically… they had the numbers to flank them, and they weren’t. If their aim was to simply cut them all down, why were they leaving a huge potential escape available? 

Something was off. 

“Boss?” Tina gasped as she, Simpson, Chambers and Malik pushed their way through the nervous crowd, Cruz, Picquery and her guards joining them a second later. “Orders?”

Percival paused a moment, glancing back over to Grindelwald. The man still hadn’t made any obvious move but to draw closer (which in turn, drew louder screams from the people around them). His followers remained behind him. 

“We’ve not got much time,” he said urgently, crouching down at the edge of the stage before his team. “Listen and act fast. Goldstein, Simpson, Chambers, gather the civilians and get them into groups of 10. Understand? Groups of 10 with two aurors attached to each.”

“Yes Boss,” Tina replied, looking rather confused but determined all the same. 

“Cruz, Malik, gather the rest of the aurors and set them up at the back of the perimeter.”

“The back, Boss?”

“It’s only a matter of time before people panic enough to make a break for unwarded grounds so they can disapparate away. If he’s leaving that whole area clear to do just that, I’ll bet you everything in my pockets that there is something hidden in that treeline ready to strike the second they do. I don’t want to flush it out and force anything just yet, it’ll just rob us of time. But I’m certain there’s something. Assemble them at the back. Half of you keep an eye on the treeline, half be ready to block runners.”

“Do you think the shields are going to hold?” Chambers asked. 

“Not a chance. Probably not even for long. But hopefully long enough for us to get the civilians out,” he said, before nudging both Tina and Simpson off. “Come on, we prepared for this. Get going and work fast.  _ Very _ fast. Goldstein, Chambers, Simpson - assure everyone we’re going to get them out and I’ll be with you in a moment. Madam President, I think it’s time for you and I to confront the gatecrashers.”

“Past time I would say,” Picquery replied, pulling her wand as Percival dropped back down to the ground and the others set about their tasks. 

Grindelwald had reached the edge of the shields by the time the two of them made their way through to the front of the crowd. He was looking awfully amused by what he was seeing. 

“Honestly, my boy. It was a lovely speech. But  _ really _ ? You don’t spot the irony at all, do you?”’ he chuckled, arching his brow, before clearing his throat and affecting his, Percival’s, voice flawlessly (sending chills down a fair few spines, including Percival’s). “ _ Robert Collins deserved better. _ Did he though? A man who oppresses his own kind for personal gain? I would put it to you that it’s  _ the people _ who deserve better than Robert Collins and all those who stand with him.”

“He’s trying to draw you out into the open, don’t fall for it,” Percival called, shooting a firm look over his shoulder at the large number of aurors and a downright murderous looking Edmund, who’d drawn their wands and made moves to go strike Grindelwald down themselves. 

“Percival, you discredit me,” Grindelwald replied. “I’m trying to bring these people salvation, not injury.”

Percival arched his brow, looking over to Picquery who in turn looked deliberately over at the group of masked witches and wizards standing behind the man.

“You could have fooled us,” she drawled. 

“You’re being combatively moronic, I’m forced to take appropriate measures,” Grindelwald sneered, waving a hand dismissively before taking a step closer and turning back to focus on Percival. “Doesn’t it just disgust you though? Both of you?  _ All of you? _ Hiding in the shadows the way we are forced to. And what for? To protect the weak from the strong? These laws, they work against nature, you must see this,” Grindelwald said, his lip curling with disgust at the thought. “Doesn’t it just make you sick?”

“I suppose some of us have stronger stomachs than others,” Percival replied simply. 

Grindelwald eyed him coldly for a moment, his nostrils flaring as his mismatched eyes darted from him to Picquery, then back to Percival. Slowly, the corner of his mouth quirked up into a lopsided smirk. 

“There is no reaching you, is there, my boy?” he drawled. 

“You killed one of my men and scarred another for life,” Percival replied, ignoring the nervous mutterings of _ ‘Merlin’s Beard, don’t antagonise him, Graves’  _ behind him (did people honestly think the man could be reasoned with?). “Even if you and your cause weren’t inherently repulsive and evil, even if you hadn’t done all that you have, that’s enough. There’ll be no bargaining with you. Today or any other day. You will pay for your crimes. I’ll see to it myself.”

Grindelwald smirked at that, but it seemed cool… dead on his pale face.

“Better men than you have tried,  _ Director _ . It didn’t end well for anyone,” he replied, his voice a sinister whisper. “But have it your way. If you can’t be reasoned with, then I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done about it.”

He sighed deeply and stepped back, lifting his wand and drawing screams of terror from those standing behind Percival. 

“In nature,” he called. “Those who can’t keep with the herd, are picked off, for the greater good of the whole. I’m afraid this self-induced weakness has dragged us all back for far too long. A cull is inevitable and necessary.” 

An arc of white-blue light shot from the tip of the other man’s wand, hitting the shields with a clap as loud as thunder. The shields shuddered at the impact… but held… for now. 

Percival grinned at the sight. He looked over at Picquery beside him, who also looked pleased with the new development. It seemed whatever trick the madman had been using to sneak past household wards clearly wasn’t going enough to get him by this one. While the shields were up, they were safe. 

“No, wait!” Tina shouted behind them, drawing both his and the president’s attention to the second situation at hand. 

Percival felt a stab of unsurprised frustration at the scene they were met with. 

Tina, Simpson and Chambers were all desperately attempting to keep people in the groups they’d arranged. But a fair few ran on heedless to their calls, making breaks for the back of the dome, only to encounter the aurors Percival had set up there. When wands were pulled in an effort to break through, it was clear to him that the panic had set in far too much for them to reintroduce order and reason into the situation with words alone. 

The shield started to crack quietly behind them, sounding quite like glass or ice that was being put under pressure.

They might be safe for now, but that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. 

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Percival dropped to his knee, digging his fingers deep into the grass and dirt beneath, pointing the tip of his wand down at the same point. 

The ground started to tremble, then shake. Just as the first few managed to force their way past the aurors who were desperately attempting to keep them from getting themselves killed, a pack of man-sized wolves made of swirling clay and rocks clawed their way out from beneath the grass just outside the dome that protected them, and took up guard also.

“Graves!” one of the runners (the speaker before him Percival noted with mild amusement) bellowed, raising a shaking fist at him. “What in the name of Deliverance Dame are you doing?!”

“TRAITOR!” another squawked. 

Percival rolled his eyes as he rose to his feet once more and, with a wide sweep of his arm, promptly sent the pack of rocks and clay streaking across the empty space before them, and straight into the treeline beyond it. Immediately screams and spell-fire started coming from the darkness within, confirming his suspicions quite clearly for all to see.

“It’s a trap. You’d have been mowed down the second you stepped out from the shields,” he called, shooting a critical eye over the group at large. “And that was just the one that was picked up on.”

“He is trying to break the shields because he can’t get through them otherwise!” Picquery barked as she stepped up beside him. “You’re safe in  _ here _ , not  _ out there _ ! 

“But that won’t be the case for much longer,” Percival added firmly.  “Stop wasting time and do as I say. Civilians, get back in the groups you were arranged in earlier. Aurors, prepare yourselves for battle.”

“Graves-!”

A louder crack cut across him. The shields were beginning to fail. The people before him screamed louder but they at least weren’t trying to run again. 

“Move!” he bellowed, before turning back to face Grindelwald. 

Drawing in air sharply through his nose he lifted his hand once again, reaching out to the treeline he’d sent his dirt wolves barreling into moments earlier, before sweeping it around the dome and straight at Grindelwald and his band of followers. 

The satisfaction of watching them hastily run or disapparate out of the path of the stone, clay and mud that came flying straight at them (and also that of Grindelwald actually having to cease his efforts to break through the shields to protect himself from the onslaught) was one he would have to truly savour at a later date. For now, the opportunity to claw back some more time while it was available had to be grabbed with both hands. 

Digging as deep as he dared, he stepped forward and with a wide swing of his wand, sent a stream of bright amber light straight back at the shields in an effort to repair some of the damage that the madman had managed to inflict upon them. 

Instantly he felt like he’d been drop-kicked straight in the chest. There was a reason why these shielding charms were cast by teams of people and not just the one, it hit you like a freight train. A second later the aforementioned madman renewed his assault upon them, which hardly helped ease the burden he’d taken on. After all, insane or not, Gellert Grindelwald was a once in a generation wizard. Any assault from him was automatically tenfold what an average wizard could inflict. But Percival held on in spite of himself. What other choice was there?

Slowly, the cracking began to quiet, then stop, before giving way to a dull hum as the shields grudgingly came back from the brink. 

It was working, but he felt himself getting weaker at the same time, which did inspire a brief thrill of terror. He was practically face to face with Grindelwald and about to plain faint away. And yet there was nothing he could do to prevent it. Before he knew it his vision was starting to blur a around the edges, black spots joining the party soon enough. 

His heart was pounding in his chest. The shields were going to fall regardless and he was going to be weak as a lamb when they did!

Just as the noise of everything around him started to grow distant, like he were in a tunnel and everything else was far away, the weight that was pushing down on his chest, pressing the breath out of him, was lifted considerably. 

His legs gave out a second later, sending him to his knees as he dragged in heaving gasps of air. Shaking his head roughly he looked over to his left and found Picquery standing there, a bright stream of amber light billowing from the tip of her wand. 

“Leave this to us and evacuate the civilians,” she grit out through clenched teeth, giving him a firm nod as Tina and Chambers both stepped up to help with the task. 

Percival shot them a quick, grateful smile as he pushed himself back to his feet, his legs trembling a little, but holding all the same. 

He grabbed one of the chairs that had been kicked over in the panic and quickly walked over to the nearest group of nervous civilians, pushing it into their bewildered hands.

“Grab ahold,” he said before lifting his wand and pressing the tip of it to one of the legs. 

“ _ Portus _ .”

For a moment the chair glowed bright blue, trembling in the group’s hands, before settling back to its original form. 

“See them all to safety and report back to MACUSA. Lock down the building. 5 more pairs will arrive after you. If they fail to arrive, go to the corresponding points and provide back up. You’re Point A.”

“Good luck, Sir,” the auror to his left replied, nodding firmly as her hand tightened around the cheap wood. 

“And you,” he replied, waiting for everyone else to tighten their hold before tapping the portkey with his wand once more, sending them all whipping out of sight. 

With escape finally within grasp, the rest of the civilians began to much more eagerly co-operate, and Percival was able to send them all on their way without any further hassle.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief when the last group zipped out of sight, before turning his attention back to the team manning the shield. 

“Let it go,” he called. 

He turned to Picquery. 

“Madame President, I think it may be time for you to make a tactical retreat,” he muttered low enough so only she could hear as the shields began to crack and squeal around them once more. 

“One would wager that he’s expecting that.”

“To a safe house then.”

“I’d much rather stand and fight for my people, Graves,” Picquery replied as her guards came back to flank her. 

Percival grimaced, torn between his misgivings with her being  _ precisely _ where he knew Grindelwald to be, and those with her being out of his sight and potentially walking into a trap. The man definitely still had something up his sleeve, he could feel it in his gut. At least here he could be relatively certain that she hadn’t been swapped out for a fanatic whilst his back was turned. Apparently these things were fairly tricky to spot. 

Picquery seemed to follow his train of thought. 

“If it comes to it, it will be better for the country if I die fighting here today, than risk being taken by them. You know this.”

Graves sighed and nodded. 

“I do,” he muttered, grimacing. “Watch your back,” he said, before turning his attention to the rest of the group, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders, a show of confidence he didn’t entirely feel. 

“Alright, this could well be what we’ve all been waiting for, so everybody, be on your guard and expect the worst,” he called, pulling off his coat and tossing it aside. “Try not to get too separated from the group and watch each other’s back. Don’t stray too close to the treelines. We don’t know what they’ve got waiting for us in there, if anything. Keep an eye on Grindelwald, but don’t attempt to engage.  _ I’ll  _ handle him,” he called over the noise of the shields starting to break down around them. “Good luck, everybody!”

He drew in a deep breath through clenched teeth and gripped his wand tighter by his side, shooting a quick look over at Tina, who caught his eye and nodded back firmly. 

“Let’s do this,” he muttered as the shields gave way entirely and, in an instant, chaos broke out among them. 

Almost immediate, Grindelwald flicked out of sight with a small pop. Percival whipped around, scanning the entire area, but he didn’t seem to reappear. 

He grit his teeth. 

The bastard was up to something. He probably planned to sit back and let them tire out. Fight them fresh while they were spent. 

Well there was nothing that he could do about that. He’d deal with whatever was to come when it did come. 

“Graves!” one of the masked wizard, one of Grindelwald’s people, bellowed as he, along with a small group approached, wand raised. 

Percival shifted back into a more ready stance, lifting his wand in return. His arms still felt heavy and slow from the exertion of trying to hold the shields, but he pushed past it the best he could. 

He blocked the volley of hexes and curses that they sent streaking straight at him, stepping out of the way of those his shield wouldn’t counter, before sending off a few quick curses of his own in response. He hit one in the chest, sending him rolling to the ground. Another connected with an ankle with a snap quite like a particularly thick rubber band. With a howl of pain that wizard fell to the ground also. He waved both of their wands away, but as he did, caught a stinger to the arm that sent him staggering to the side. Growling with frustration he lifted his wand once again and pointed it at his attackers, only to find their numbers doubled. Even if he were in prime condition, 15 to 1 was a bit of an ask. And in the condition he was in at that moment… it wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, to say the least. 

His eyes darted over the group, searching for weaknesses and injuries he could exploit, but before he could make his move, he was thoroughly interrupted by a spell thudding into the grass less than a foot in front of him. He staggered back. Another followed, this one hitting one of the masked assailants before him. Before he knew if hexes and curse were raining down on the people before him like artillery fire, sending all of his attackers off running. 

He looked up, a grin spreading across his face when he spotted Tina freefalling 50 yards above him, her wand slashing this way and that as she went. 

“You little thief,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head when she flicked out of sight just as jets of light started shooting skywards.

By the time he spotted her again she was on the ground safe and sound, hexing one of their opponents between the shoulders. 

It looked like he had a bit of catching up to do. 

He sent a particularly large hooded man flying across the ground into the side of a small group of his fellows who’d been starting to get the upperhand on Simpson. 

He advanced. 

Two more wizards jumped in front of him, wands raised. 

“Oh look at this, Hopkins. It’s Mr Grindelwald’s boy,” the larger one sneered. 

The comment instantly shot a stab of rage through Percival, but he pushed past it. That was likely his intention, to wind him up. 

“Getting a bit big for your boots isn’t he-?”

“ _ LOOK OUT BOSS! _ ”

Percival ducked down, hitting the ground just in time to avoid a bolt of red light that screamed from behind him, hitting the larger man in the chest instead and sent him stumbling back, screaming in pain. 

“Monologuing gentlemen, it’ll be the death of you,” Percival called as he shot a stunner at the writhing man before freezing the second in a full body bind. 

Five more of Grindelwald’s people dashed forward, wands slashing this way and that. 

He blocked and dodge the spells they threw at him, casting a hand over the ground beneath their feet all the while. They didn’t register the shuddering until it was too late and before too long they were, all five, buried shoulder deep in the dirt. 

Percival grinned with satisfaction before falling back a little. That little trick had taken a bit out of him. He needed a moment. 

Stepping behind the cover of the stage, which had been flipped up onto it’s side, he assessed the situation. There didn’t seem to be any fatalities on their side, which was a relief, but their opponents had the numbers. Grindelwald was still nowhere to be seen either. 

He spotted Tina fighting not too far away. She had four of the bastards on her, and though she was holding her own, it was clear the people she was fighting not only didn’t mind the idea of killing or maiming their opponent, they were actively trying to do so. She needed back up. 

Well he could do that. 

Gripping his wand tighter he stepped out from behind the cover and made his way through the throng of battling people, keeping his guard up as he moved. 

There were duels everywhere around him. Malik and Cruz had teamed up to take on a group of six. Percival shot two of their opponents down for them while they were distracted. 

He lunged forward and dragged Chambers down to the ground and out of the way of a killing curse that had been aimed straight at his back. It soared overhead instead. Percival sent one of the fallen chairs hurtling back at the witch who’d shot it, Chambers lunging forward to throw a stunning spell immediately after it, hitting her in the gut and sending her to the ground.

“Thanks boss,” the kid panted, his face pale beneath the mud smeared over it. 

Before Percival could reply, Simpson, who’d been sent staggering after blocking a particularly brutal curse, stumbled into the both of them and landed in a heap in the mud. 

Percival and Chambers sent the wizard who’d blasted him back flying across the field as he righted himself.

“You two stick together and watch each other’s back,” he shouted over the noise of the battles around them, squeezing both of their shoulders before getting back to his feet before scanning the area once again. 

Panic swelled inside his chest. Tina was fending off seven of Grindelwald’s people now, the edges of curses and hexes brushing by so close it was making her coat flutter. 

Before he could set off two separate jets of green came shooting straight at him, forcing him to shield himself with the nearest object at hand, which turned out to be the podium. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, Graves,” a large man snarled, grinning as he lumbered over, raising his wand over his head. 

Irritation momentarily overtook the panic as Percival stepped forward and, with a flick of his wand, sent the man flying straight into the second wizard who’d fired at him. 

“Was it everything you’d hoped for?” he asked, stunning and binding the both of them before setting off towards Tina once more. 

A stunner clipped her in the arm, sending her spinning down to the ground. 

Percival ran as fast as he could through the crowd but he was too far away. Skidding to a stop in the mud, he paused a second, aimed his wand and sent a stunning spell straight at the chest of one of the men that had moved to loom over her. He slipped his wand into his holster as he crumpled to the ground, before apparating right behind the group. He wrapped an arm firmly around the necks of two of the bastards before apparating again, this time about 20 foot up, at which point he let go and apparated back down to the ground. Tina rolled out of the way as the two men fell rather nastily on top of two of their comrades, shooting down the sixth member of the team as Percival took down the last. 

“Alright?” Percival asked once they were all taken care of, offering her a hand up. 

“Yeah. Thanks Boss,” she panted, rubbing the back of her hand over her nose which was dribbling blood lazily. 

Percival nodded back. 

“You were doing great, but try not to take on seven like that again,” he said, shooting her a quick grin. 

“You can talk,” Tina replied with a grin of her own. “Did you see that before?!” she cried, pointing into the sky. “I can’t believe how well it worked.”

“I can’t believe you stole my idea-!”

Before he could finish, Percival’s legs shot out from beneath him as surely as if a rug had been pulled. He hit the ground with a thud, Tina beside him, but the four jets of green and red light that shot above their heads answered any questions that had begun to form in his head.

Wasting no time, he rolled in the direction the spells had come from, slapping his hand hard against the ground and sending a surge of magic straight into it. Instantly it began to swell and roll towards their attackers, like a wave, wrong footing them long enough to make easy work for him and Tina to stun, bind and throw back the lot of them. 

Getting to his feet he looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with Picquery. 

He raised a hand in thanks before turning his attention to the chaos around them. 

“This is madness!” Tina gasped, rubbing mud from her eyes. 

“Then let’s organise it,” he said. “We’ve cut down enough of their numbers to control the crowd some more. Go around to the others and tell them to start trying to establish a perimeter. Push their people into the middle and we’ll flank them and attack  as a team.”

Tina nodded firmly, gripping her wand tighter. 

“Got it boss,” she said. 

“Be careful.”

“You too,” she said before taking off. 

Percival moved to do the same, before something caught his attention.

Grindelwald had rejoined the battle. But he wasn’t fighting. No, his attention was fixed on something else. Someone else. 

Percival frowned, following the line of those mismatched eyes, straight to the form of Seraphina Picquery. 

His heart felt like it had seized with panic.

Percival watched, frozen, as the president’s four-auror-strong guard went flying in separate directions with a wave of the man’s wand.

It was just Grindelwald and Picquery now. 

Percival took off running. 

Picquery was fighting back, but she had held the shields longer than  _ he _ had, and once in a generation witch or not, everyone had their limits. And it seemed that she had reached hers, at least in comparison to a fresh Gellert Grindelwald who was swatting away every curse and hex she sent his way with the air of a man being pestered by flies. 

And he was getting closer.

Percival sprinted as fast as he could, vaulting over bodies and ducking around spells, object and people as they came flying… but it wasn’t fast enough. 

Grindelwald was getting closer. 

Picquery was knocked back to the ground but she kept on fighting. 

Grindelwald smirked and disarmed her with a flick of his wand, sending hers sailing through the air. 

Percival skidded momentarily to a halt, summoning it to his free hand, before taking off running once more. 

Grindelwald was leaning forward. 

He wasn’t going to make it. 

He seized a hold of Picquery’s arm. 

He wasn’t going to make it. 

He pulled her to her feet, turned, and locked his mismatched blue eyes, glinting with triumph, onto Percival’s. 

Percival twisted on the spot, apparating mid stride across the remaining distance between himself and the President. 

When he apparated Grindelwald and Picquery were already twisting out of sight. He didn’t think further. Lunging forward, he grabbed a hold of what felt like the edge of Grindelwald’s sleeve and clung on for dear life as he too was yanked along to wherever the man was taking them. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks for all of the lovely comments from the last chapter. I really can't describe how much each of them truly brightened my day. Thank you and enjoy!

Percival hit the ground with a bone crunching thud. It had been a long time, _years_ , since apparating had made him sick to his stomach. But after that nightmare of a trip, his streak seemed to have come to an end.

His developed sense of self-preservation alone kept him from wasting time being sick over himself. And even then, it was a close thing.

Swallowing thickly, he pushed himself to his feet, assessing the situation at hand.

They were in the middle of Picquery’s office. _That_ made _far_ more sense, on every level, than the whole ‘full-scale attack’ nonsense had ever done.

For one, it was the last place that anyone would look for them. So if Grindelwald’s real plan was to keep them captive (his heart lurched painfully at the thought), this would be a good place for him to hide them away. He knew for a fact there were safes and vaults littered around the office that only the president could open. If they were replaced, like he had been before, ( _It could happen again_ ) they’d never be found. It was the perfect place to hold a prisoner.

It was also symbolic. So if he planned to kill them instead, to send a message to the country - this was the place their bodies should be found. It was out of sight, so if he and Picquery didn’t go quietly, if they _were_ able to make the fight a close thing, then nobody would know. Nobody would be inspired by their last stand. Nobody would recall the battle and be reminded that Grindelwald was not omnipresent, not all-powerful. They’d just see the dead, broken bodies of the nation’s leader and, now, its last line of defence, at the feet of its new ruler and assume they fell easily.

And if his aim was to merely retrieve something held in the President’s office, one of the most well protected rooms in the land - side-alonging the only person in the world who could apparate right to it, and so bypassing all of the wards around it, was probably the best way to achieve that.  Which made both himself and, more importantly, Picquery, expendable. He had to assume that they were both marked for death at this point and go from there.

Percival stepped back and cast around for his wand. Picquery had stumbled to her feet as well, doing the same. Grindelwald, however, dusted himself off, with all the urgency of a neighbour who’d come around for coffee.

He spotted his wand. Picquery’s too.

Breathing in sharply, he lunged across the room, grabbing them both from the polished marble floor. He sidestepped a lazy curse Grindelwald flicked his way, tossed Picquery’s wand over to where she had taken cover, before firing off a volley of hexes back at him.

Picquery stood and did the same.

Grindelwald, infuriatingly, batted all of their spells away with an almost indulgent air, like he were dueling particularly rambunctious children.

“So sweet of you to come along for the ride, my boy. I thought you might,” he chuckled.

“Did you just?” Percival replied.

With a sharp wave of his hand, he sent an ornate dagger from the shelves behind, hurtling across the room straight at the man, sending a string of curses after it. Grindelwald ducked out of the way of both.

He clucked his tongue reproachfully. Before Percival could make a move, he was knocked off his feet by what felt like an invisible bludger to the gut, and sent flying back into the towering bookshelves that lined the wall behind him.

He fell to a heap on the ground, groaning.

“Disappointing,” Grindelwald commented, clucking his tongue once more before the crack and whizzing of spellfire filled the room once more as Picquery started an assault.

Winded, Percival rolled behind cover and pressed a hand to his chest. For all the apparent physicality of the spell, his ribs at least seemed to be more or less intact.

He heard Picquery gasp. She must have got hit. Spellfire went on. She was alright. For now. He had to get up though.

Dragging in a couple of deep breaths, he staggered back to his feet.  

Grindelwald glanced over to him, shooting a quick curse (which Percival dodged), twisting to block a particularly brutal curse from Picquery on his other side. Percival took his chance. Lunging forward, with a slash of his wand, he knocked Grindelwald’s clean out of his hand, sending it sailing through the air.

A heavy silence fell over the room as Percival stepped forward and caught it, utterly stunned that he’d actually managed it at all.

He never had in the past. He hadn’t seen anyone manage it in fact.

Grindelwald turned slowly to as Percival leveled his own wand at him, gripping the other tight at his side. He arched his brow, the corner of his lips twitching upwards in a tiny, amused and decidedly dangerous smile.

“That was a mistake, my boy,” he said, voice little more than an icy whisper.

Percival eyed him warily, before lifting his wand a fraction higher and, with a flick of the tip, shot a set of chords straight at him. Of course, before they made contact, one of the guest chairs flew in their path and got wrapped up instead.

He’d expected it. Grindelwald never made matters simple. So he was already making motions to send another barrage of spells at him, to pin him down under spellfire until an opening to contain him presented itself. He managed, in fact, to get off the first volley of hexes before his attention was caught by a glint of metal out of the corner of his eye.

The knife that he’d thrown at Grindelwald earlier had pulled itself from the wall, turned swiftly, and before Percival’s eyes, shot across the room, straight at a preoccupied Picquery.

Abandoning all thought of assault, Percival shifted rapidly to defence, pulling the woman to the side with a hasty sweep of his hand, just before the knife slammed into the spot where she’d been standing a split second earlier.

It couldn’t have been more than a second his attention had been turned from the man, but Grindelwald seized the opportunity in an instant.  

Before Percival had even properly turned to face him again, he was flying across the room, slamming into the wall behind him. He didn’t hit it as hard as he probably should, he suspected Picquery was attempting to cushion the impacts for him (he wished she’d focus on finding a way to get herself out instead) but didn’t have much time to contemplate the matter, as before he even hit the ground, he was off flying again. He smashed into the wall to his side, then the ceiling, then the floor, then another wall, until eventually not only Grindelwald’s wand, but _his own,_ had slipped from his grasp. Only then was he dropped to the ground, limp as a child’s ragdoll.

His head was spinning after several knocks against stone walls and thick, hard wooden shelves, but he tried his hardest to push past it. He had to protect the president. Protect Seraphina.

He tried to get back to his feet but he couldn’t. After what felt like a herculean effort he just managed to prop himself up on his elbows, but couldn’t go further.

All the while he focused on Grindelwald’s boots, shined but splattered with mud and grass from the ceremonial grounds. He watched them stroll across the room, a hand coming into his field of vision, retrieving the other man’s long, noduled wand.

He shifted his gaze blearily, spotting Picquery bound to the very same chair that had blocked his initial spell.

Well this had all gone the way of harpies in no time flat.

Grindelwald swished his wand, like he was testing it, checking it for damage. As soon as he was satisfied, there’d be hell to pay.

He needed his wand. He needed to fight.

He squeezed his eyes tight, willing his head to stop spinning. When he opened them again, it was with renewed focus. He scanned the floor in search of it.

Grindelwald was walking again.

There! He spotted it lying just a couple of feet from the president’s desk.

Grindelwald’s footsteps were becoming louder.

Reaching out a shaking hand he tried to focus his muddled mind enough to summon it. His heart was pounding in his chest. He needed to focus. Focus!

“A-Accio wand,” he uttered, heart leaping as slowly it started to slide and roll over to his outstretched hand-

A boot came down on top of it, trapping it in place. A shiny boot, spattered in mud and grass.

His breath catching in his throat, Percival lifted his head and found Grindelwald towering over him, a cruel glint in his mismatched eyes.

He smirked as he leaned down and picked up his wand, holding it delicately between finger and thumb.

He held Percival’s gaze as he shifted, gripping each end of the wand in his hands.

He grinned wider, before bringing it down over his knee, snapping it clean in two, and dropping the pieces to the floor with a, to Percival, deafening clatter.

“I should have done that a long time ago.”

Percival stared at what was left of his wand in utter shock.

He continued staring at it as he was dragged up to his feet and dropped into the second guest chair, chords coming up to bind him in place too.

He was made to turn away when rough fingers gripped his chin tight, forcing him to look up into Grindelwald’s gloating face.

“Behave,” he said, patting his cheek roughly, before setting about wandering around the office.

Percival’s attention strayed back to his wand, to the broken pieces of wood and wampus whiskers lying prone and dead on the floor. His chest was starting to heave and he realised, a little later than he likely should have, that he’d begun to panic.

But how couldn’t he? His wand was in pieces. It was snapped in two. Broken forever. His wand that he’d had since he was a child. The wand that had seen him through his every schoolyard fight as a student, his every duel on the beat as an auror, his every battle in the mud as a soldier. The wand he’d bought with his father on his eleventh birthday. It was gone.

The Blood was beginning to roar in his ears.

He forced himself to look away, screw his eyes shut and hold his breath.

It was gone. _It was gone._

“Graves,” Picquery uttered across from him.

He startled. He’d almost forgotten that she was there.

He looked up, finding open concern plain on the woman’s usually stoic face.

It wasn’t just him. She was here too. The President, Seraphina, was here too. He had to protect her. It was his job to protect her and the country she represented.

He dragged in a lungful of air and held it.

His wand was gone. But his magic wasn’t. His wits weren’t. His body wasn’t. He could still fight. He had to.

With determination pushing his panic momentarily to the side, he turned his attention back to Picquery, who was dividing hers between him and tracking Grindelwald as he prowled around the office, pulling books indiscriminately from the shelves, as if searching for something among them.

He frowned at the sight, shooting the woman a questioning glance and receiving a shrug in response. She seemed more bemused than concerned by the man’s current pursuit.

Well, that suggested that there wasn’t anything exceedingly powerful in here, something that could be weaponised. At least nothing obvious.

That was one thing.

Drawing in a deep breath through the one nostril that wasn’t clogged with blood, he forced himself to focus, to calm, and scanned the room. He needed to get out of these bindings first of all. He still had command over his wandless magic, now his head had settled a bit. It definitely wouldn’t hold against a wizard like Grindelwald, especially when he still had a wand at his disposal, but with the element of surprise he might be able to get a couple good hits in, and you only need one good hit to end a fight. They might have a chance.

He looked over to Picquery and saw her eyes closed as well. He couldn’t see anything at work around them so he prayed to anyone who was listening that she was focusing her attention on bringing down the wards around them enough to make an escape.

She was doing her part then. He had to do his.

First, get free. Then, either get them out or get help. Shouldn’t be too difficult really. He just had to find some sort of way to communicate with people from inside a magical panic room without their jailer realising it. Simple.

Wait.

The ring!

He looked down, his heart leaping when he found the gold ring he’d had the charms unit knock together on his finger. He’d completely forgotten about it.

He let out a slow breath through his lips as twisted his arm so he had a little more maneuverability for his hands.

Tap. Twist twice. Tap twice. Wait.

He shut his eyes, trying to calm the rapid pounding in his chest as he waited.

And waited.

Mercy Lewis did Tina even put it on this morning. It was just an experiment after all. He’d not told her to wear it all the time. Maybe she’d left it at home, forgot about it like he had. He cast his mind back but he couldn’t recall. His head was throbbing. He could barely see across the room without his vision blurring, _of course_ he couldn’t recall.

He swallowed thickly as something heavy was pulled from the shelves, hitting the marble with a resounding crash.

If she wasn’t wearing it, it wasn’t the end of the world. It just meant he was back at square one, that’s all.

Alright. New plan.

But...what if she was wearing it, and the buzzing distracted her mid-duel? Oh that was an even worse thought!

The ring buzzed.

Percival’s eyes snapped open. He held his breath, trying to determine whether he imagined it or not. He desperately hoped he hadn't’t. He didn’t think he had. He was sure he didn’t.

His heart sped up.

Help was coming. He just needed to bide their time. And keep this to himself.

Slowly, so the other man wouldn’t notice the sudden change, he brought his mental shields down and buckled them tight. It might not be enough, but it should buy them time.

Well, that was _help_ taken care of. Now he needed to help himself, and the first step to doing that, was getting free.

His eyes landed on the knife that was still stabbed into the wall to his left.

He glanced over to Grindelwald, who, for the moment, seemed preoccupied pushing a heavy cabinet away from the opposite one.

Letting out a slow breath he focused on the knife, reaching out to it as far as the chord strapping his wrist to the arm of the chair would allow.

It started to shift, then slowly wiggle itself free.

Keeping his eyes fixed on it, he floated the dagger across the room, slowly, keeping it angled away from the light and as unnoticeable as possible, until finally, _finally_ he had it in his hand.

Biting his lip, he twisted it in his fingers until the sharp edge was pressed to the ropes and set about cutting through, keeping his eyes on Grindelwald all the while.

Adrenaline pumped through him once more as his right hand came free.

Breathing shallowly he made quick work of the ties around his left arm and legs, before easing himself off the chair.

He glanced over to Picquery who was watching him closely, before turning his attention back to the dagger in his hand. A doubling charm was a lot more difficult than a summoning one, but eventually he he had two daggers on hand.

Pressing a finger to his lips, he passed Picquery the duplicate. As she set about cutting herself free, he focused on the other task at hand. Grindelwald.

Keeping his step light, he made his way across the office.

Grindelwald didn’t move, his attention apparently focused solely on a large MACUSA seal that adorned the wall behind the president’s desk.

He drew closer, holding his breath. All he had to do was plunge the knife into the bastards throat and all of this would be over. He’d never hurt anyone again. They’d have cut the head off the snake that was his little movement as well. All he had to do was land a decent blow.

Grindelwald didn’t move.

Percival did.

Lunging forward, he brought the knife slashing down where the madman’s neck should have been, only for him to twist out of the way and step back at the last second.

Percival growled with frustration, but he wasn’t surprised.

Grindelwald was laughing as he took another step back.

“I thought I told you to behave,” he cackled as Percival jumped forward once more, grabbing a hold of his shirt front. He didn’t have the range of a wand anymore. He needed to keep the bastard close and _land something_.

Shoving Grindelwald back against the wall he brought the knife down again but Grindelwald twisted out of the way once more, before ramming his elbow into the side of Percival’s head.

Percival staggered to the side a fraction, but shook off the blow, moving to leap forward again, only to freeze.

Grindelwald had drawn his wand again. But it wasn’t pointed at him.

“Drop the knife,” he said, arching his brow as he leveled his wand with Picquery’s heart. “Or I will do to dear Madam President here what you so wish to do to me. And _I_ won’t miss.”

Percival ground his teeth furiously, squeezing his fingers tighter around the hilt of the dagger for a moment.

He glanced over at Picquery, standing on the other side of the desk, her face impassive. She wouldn’t blame him if he pressed on regardless, he could tell. But that wasn’t an option. He couldn’t sacrifice the leader of their country for the _chance_ of victory, not when he was squandering similar chances left, right, and centre.

Glaring furiously back at Grindelwald, he dropped the knife.

“Good boy,” Grindelwald purred, before summoning one of the guest chairs once again. A second later Picquery was restrained once more.

Ropes wrapped around Percival’s wrists at the same time, binding them tight behind his back.

“Now, let’s handle this matter like civilised people,” he said as he gripped Percival by the scruff of the neck and brought him back around the desk, muttering all the while about behaving like muggles and how pathetic that was.

Percival was pushed roughly into the second chair and held there by a firm hand on his shoulder.

Grindelwald turned to Picquery, nodding pointedly up at the seal.

“Open it,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please, don’t insult my intelligence. I know a safe when I see one. Open it, or I will make you,” Grindelwald replied cooly, leveling his wand at the woman as he did.

Percival looked over at her. There wasn’t a hint of fear in her eyes as she glared back, her chin lifted defiantly.

Grindelwald seems to spot it himself.

He paused a moment longer, his fingers flexing around the handle of his wand. Even if it would do no good, or at least take longer than he’d like, Percival could tell that the man wanted to strike out at her in some way. Hatred for her position, for the role she played in the downfall of his initial plans, they could well win out over the man’s better judgement. Rage often did with the madman, Percival could attest to that personally.

But the moment passed.

Instead, Grindelwald clicked his tongue, and grabbed him, Percival, by the back of his collar. He dragged him off of his seat, pushing him to his knees before her.  

Percival shut his eyes, swallowing thickly as he felt the tip of the other man’s wand press into the base of his skull.

“Open it,” Grindelwald said again.

Percival looked up at Picquery when the wand pushed against his neck harder, willing her to hold strong, even if it could mean the end for him.

Her eyes darted from Grindelwald, to him, and back again. She looked mildly torn about what to do, which, considering her usual poker face, spoke volumes of whatever inner-turmoil was going on behind that mask.

Percival shifted his gaze down to the broken pieces of his wand, now just a few feet from him.

He shut his eyes and waited.

“Well, Madam President?”

“I think you already know my answer, Grindelwald.”

‘ _That’s it_ ,’ Percival thought to himself. ‘ _Hold firm_ . _Help will be here soon. Just hold firm._ ”

“I expect I do,” Grindelwald hummed, the hand gripping the back of Percival’s neck shifting ominously. “Let’s see what we can do about that.”

He’d honestly been expecting a killing curse, so the cruciatus that hit him came as a complete shock. Even if he’d prepared himself, he doubted his resolve would have lasted long, because this was something else. He’d thought a normal cruciatus was agony, but he’d been wrong. It felt like he’d been lanced through the eyes with metal spikes. Like a beater's bat was being pushed in through the base of his skull, slowly, the bones fracturing and giving as it went. He felt like lightning was shooting down his spinal chord and burning him from the inside out. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t even summon the control of mind to wish it would stop, he was too consumed by the agony itself.

After what felt like an age, the pressure finally let up. The pain lessened from burning, razor sharp intensity - to a bone deep ache as he was dropped down to the marble tiles that covered the floor.

There was ringing in his ears and when he opened his eyes, white was all that he could see.

When the haze eventually started to fade, to his horror, he found Grindelwald digging through the safe hidden behind the seal, a hand gripping Picquery by the arm, no doubt in an effort to counter any traps that had been placed on it should an unauthorised person gain access.

Percival’s vision started to blur again and he squeezed his eyes shut, a groan escaping him before he could stop it. Everything hurt, his head more than the rest. Mercy Lewis his skull felt like it was splitting in two.

“That is a bit disappointing,” Grindelwald sighed as he and Picquery walked back over, the latter falling heavily back into her chair, which immediately shifted to bind her arms once more.

Percival blinked and looked up at them with squinted eyes.

Picquery still appeared uninjured. That had to be something. But it looks like they’d served their purpose now and that meant they were both in serious danger.

Groaning softly again he tried to force himself past the pain that wracked his body, seeping the strength clean from it. He needed to get up. Get free. Fight. Protect the president. Get her out.

“Still... I suppose the day’s not a complete loss,” Grindelwald drawled, walking over to lean against Picquery’s desk, brushing his fingers along the edge of it, the corners of his lips curling.

This was it. He was going to kill them. He had to. get. up.

“I believe I did make a promise to dear Percival here, about what I would do to him, in this room.”

Percival froze.

“In your presence.”

The will to fight left him, replaced instead by profound, bone deep terror.

“Over this _pretentious_ desk.”

Picquery slowly turned her gaze from the madman straddling her desk, to where Percival was laying on the floor. Her brows were furrowed, momentarily confused, then quietly horrified as that sharp mind of hers put all the pieces together.

She schooled them a moment later before turning back to Grindelwald.

“There is no need for that,” she said cooly. “You’ve looked for whatever it is you seek. It is not here. Leave now or face the consequences when the _entire_ auror department storms this office.”

“Madame President, if it’s anything that Percival here and I have proven beyond a doubt, it’s that without their director leading them by the nose, your beloved aurors aren’t exactly the world’s sharpest manhunters. And the building’s in lockdown. This office is currently nigh on impenetrable. I expect we’ve got quite a while to ourselves indeed. More than enough time to indulge in a little pleasure amongst business.”

Percival tracked him warily as he crossed the room, prowling closer and closer. The man grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him back to his knees.

He was shaking with the effort of merely staying upright. He liked to think that it was the result of the cruciatus curse, but he couldn’t help but expect that a large part of it was fear as well.

Mercy Lewis not again. Please not again. Not here. Not in front of Seraphina. Please don’t let him do this.

Grindelwald laughed, a cruel, rumbling sound, as he gripped Percival’s chin and tipped his head back to look up at him.

“Oh, my dear boy, look at you. Trembling with excitement.”

“Stop this!” Picquery barked. “Stop it! You have no need to do this! What purpose does it serve?!”

Percival shot a fleeting glance over at the woman. She actually looked distressed now, her mask slipping away as she came to grips with what was about to happen. What she was about to witness.

Ah. This was designed to hurt her, just as much as it was him. He wanted to violate her as well as him. Her sense of power and control. He wanted to take it from her by showing her just how powerless she was to stop him, to help in any way. It was torture, in its own way. The bastard was killing two birds with the one stone.

“Needs. Purposes. There is more to life, Madame President,” Grindelwald drawled, gripping Percival’s chin a little tighter before shoving his head away so violently he nearly tumbled back to the floor. “Like the pleasure of watching one’s enemies, the barrier between the way things are and how they should be, crumbling beneath you.”

Percival winced as the hand came back to his hair, jerking his head to the right, before the wet, soft drag of a tongue running up the side of his face drew his attention from that discomfort.

He shuddered.

“Enough!” Picquery cried, trying to break herself away from the chair.

Grindelwald chuckled, the noise rumbling in Percival’s ear as he eyed her warily. Concern warred with blind panic as he watched her legendarily impenetrable mask slip away entirely. This was really going to affect her. There was no saving himself in this, he knew that, but there had to be something to do to help her.

“You’re not really in the position to be giving anyone orders, _Madame President_ ,” he drawled, before hefting Percival to his feet.

“Have you got anything you’d like to say to your beloved leader, my boy?” he drawled as he propped a still curse-weakened Percival upright. “Come on. Be honest.”

“Stop it!”

He had to spare her from this. Stop her from witnessing it. He’d side-along Grindelwald away this second if he could. He’d not be able to get back into the office. But the wards wouldn’t allow that. And he’d need his wand regardless (grief stabbed his heart at that thought). The floo network would be shut down with the building in lockdown. Even dulling her senses enough not to see or hear would require time and dexterity he didn’t have. He did have one option left to him but it wasn’t something that he wanted to do without a wand, as well as blind and under pressure. But he needed to do something. Even if it was buying time. The others would come. But how long would it take?

He could feel Grindelwald’s excitement pressing firm against his hip and growing harder with each passing second.

They weren’t going to make it in time. He was going to have to bear this after all.

The hand on the back of his neck squeezed tight.

Grindelwald hissed quietly beside him and pointed his wand at Seraphina.

“ _Speak_.”

“Percival,” she uttered, looking wretched.

He didn’t have any choice.

Squaring his jaw he lifted his head, resolute, as he looked over at the woman before him.

“Madame President, I’m sorry,” he muttered, flexing his hands behind his back as he spoke.

Piquery frowned.

“Good boy,” Grindelwald purred, before leading him over to the desk.

“Grindelwald! Stop it!” Seraphina shouted. “Stop this now-!”

A flash of light lit up the room and Percival glanced over his shoulder, letting out a soft breath when he spotted her slumped in her chair, unconscious.

He shifted his gaze from her, to Grindelwald who actually looked momentarily stunned. He’d obviously managed to bring up a shield in time to protect himself from the stunning charms he’d shot out from his bound hands, unfortunately, but Percival had expected he would. His main goal had been achieved. Seraphine wouldn’t be made to watch whatever was to come. She’d been spared.

Grindelwald slowly turned back to him, his mismatched blue eyes burning with barely contained rage.

“Sorry,” Percival said, a vicious sense of satisfaction flashing through him briefly in spite of his terror. “You didn’t have your heart set on making her watch did you?”

Grindelwald snarled ferally, his hand clenching the wand by his side.

It was worth it. Whatever was to come, it had been worth it. He wasn’t going to hurt Seraphina this way. He wasn’t going to make Percival a tool to hurt another person. It was just him at the madman’s mercy now, and he could live with that. It was a small price to pay.

His head snapped to the side as the other man’s fist cracked against his cheek.

Before he could reorientate himself, he was swung around and slammed into the desk. A hand was in his hair one second, then there were bells in his head the next as his skull cracked against the hard, polished wood once, twice, three, four times. He lost count after a while. It didn’t quite hurt, not yet. It never really did in the moment. As such Percival found himself musing whether this was how he’d end up going in the end, with his brains splattered across the presidential desk. It wasn’t exactly the blaze of glory he’d envisioned for himself but he supposed it could be worse.

Only when the throbbing started did he realised that his head was no longer being bludgeoned against the tabletop.

He could taste blood in his mouth, and feel it running down his face, from his nose once more and somewhere else too. There was a rather persistent throbbing coming from his right brow, maybe that was the source.

His legs were kicked apart and distantly he remembered what was also happening here. Squeezing his eyes shut he attempted to force them together again, to push himself upright and away.

His head smacked against the tabletop once more, except this time it hurt when it happened.

Groaning he tried to weakly push himself up but found he’d been pinned by a hand pressing down on the back of his neck, gripping the skin in a cruel grasp.

His legs were forced apart once again, his trousers and underwear shoved down a second later.

His breathing sped up.

He tried to kick out but the trousers pooled around his ankles bound them as well as an rope would.

A hand slipped under his shirt and vest, splaying over his trembling back for a second, before nails dug into the soft, scar-littered flesh.

“She’ll still know,” Grindelwald snarled into his ear as the hand that wasn’t pinning Percival down by the neck shifted lower. Down his back, his hip, over his arse before slipping between his cheeks.

Percival moaned wretchedly as he felt two fingers pushing roughly inside of him.

It was happening again. It was happening to him again and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Even if she doesn’t see it, she’ll know what happened. She’ll know what you were too weak to stop.”

Percival tried to block him out, to let the spinning inside his head take front and centre, to focus on that.

A hand grabbed his hair and his tugged head back.

“Now now, stay with me, my boy,” Grindelwald purred. “You may be a pathetic auror but you can at least try to be a good bedfellow.”

“Shut up,” Percival panted, his voice weaker and shakier than he’d have liked.

“There’s that fire again,” Grindelwald chuckled.

Percival grit his teeth at the comment.

He attempted to push past the terror, the shame, and grasp the fury that was burning bright inside of him instead. The rage that this was happening to him again. _Again_. Why?! He’d done nothing to deserve this. Any of this. Throughout his entire life he’d done nothing that would warrant it. So why? Why him? And why Wilson?! And Collins! They’d all dedicated their lives, their health and peace of mind to making the world safer, to making it better. Why did this happen to them?!

Snarling he clenched his fists where they were bound behind his back and snapped, “Just shut the fuck up!”

Grindelwald barked a laugh at that and the rage inside of Percival flared, like a flame that had been doused in fuel.

With all his might he tried to push up off the desk, to kick out, to hit and rip and hurt the other man. Kill him if he could. The world would be a better place without him. It would be blood on his hands that he’d bear with pride.

He drew all the power he had left, squeezing his eyes shut as he focused and, with all his might, shot it back at the man standing behind him.

The weight of the other man’s body left him, the sound of splintering wood and glass echoed around the room.

Percival froze, feeling faint from the exertion. A small sliver of hope timidly fluttered into life in his chest.

Did that work. Was it over?

Grindelwald laughed.

Percival’s heart sank. Utterly spent from his last ditch assault, he twisted slowly around to look behind him, and found Grindelwald standing there, no worse for wear. Everything behind him looked like it had been hit by a grenade blast, but Grindelwald himself was unscathed.

The sob that ripped itself from Percival caught him by surprise, and he couldn’t stop the next.

“There there,” Grindelwald chuckled as he stepped forward, his hand returning to grip the scruff of Percival’s neck and force him back over the desk, though there wasn’t any resistance left in him anymore.

“It was a valiant effort, my boy, it really was,” Grindelwald said, his voice soothing even as he lined up his cock with Percival’s entrance, before forcing his way inside.

He let out a pained moan, screwing his eyes shut. It hurt. It always shocked him how much it hurt. To think there was once a time when he had found this activity enjoyable. Now, now he felt like he was being torn in two, ripped apart, as his stomach clenched and rolled inside him all the while. The other man began to move, violent and self-serving as ever.

“But it wasn’t enough, was it?” Grindelwald gasped, letting out a deep satisfied groan as he set a brutal pace.

Percival shut his eyes, pressing his forehead against the desk and waited for it to be over. He was right. It hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t been enough. He deserved this. This was happening to him because he was weak. And this happened to Collins and Wilson because he was weak. This all happened because he wasn’t as strong as he thought he was, as he always told the world that he was. If he’d been strong enough, he’d have beaten Grindelwald the first time. He’d have stopped this all before it started. Collins would still be alive, Edmund would still have his father. Avery wouldn’t have to live with the trauma of rape and torture for the rest of his life, Mercy Lewis he was so young. The Barebone boy would still be alive, could well have had a new life in the world he belonged to from the start. Tina wouldn’t look at the interrogation room and recall being sentenced to death in it. Theseus’ little brother would have never gotten wrapped up in it all, he’d have never been hurt by the madman who’d stolen his face.

If he’d been strong enough, he would have stopped it all from happening.

He let out a sob, not even trying to choke it back. What was the use? This was all his fault.

He jerked forward and moaned when Grindelwald gave a particularly cruel thrust, then another.

“That’s it,” Grindelwald panted, his nails digging in painfully to the crook of Percival’s neck as he fucked into him brutally. It was almost over. Almost over. Just a little longer now. “Go on. Cry.”

And he did, no matter how much he tried to hold back the tears, simply to spite the bastard. He failed at that too.

He wept as the thrusts got faster and harder. He wept as teeth sank into his shoulder, then the back of his neck. He wept as the pain of it all became nearly unbearable. He wept until he had no tears, not emotion left inside him.

Grindelwald came with a shout, shooting his load inside of Percival before falling on top of him.

Percival laid boneless over the desk, shutting his eyes and trying to imagine that the weight on his back, pressing him down firmer was something else, _someone_ else.

He gasped quietly when Grindelwald pushed himself back up, slipping out of him at last.

There was a distant bang outside the office as the wards were brought down hastily, one after the other.

“I don’t know about you, Director. But their timing really couldn’t be more perfect, don’t you think?” Grindelwald chuckled behind him, patting his bare hip before zipping himself back up and stepping away.

Percival stayed where he was, watching as Grindelwald rounded the desk, plucking Seraphina’s wand from his coat pocket it, considering it for a moment before tossing it away like rubbish. Rubbish, but _whole_ rubbish. _Working_ rubbish. That was more than _his_ wand got.

“Until next time, my boy,” Grindelwald replied with a teasing grin as the wards audibly came crashing down around them. One set off a shimmer by the windows and as soon as it did, Grindelwald shattered them with a mere wave of his hand.

He shot a smirk over his shoulder as he stepped up onto the edge, before jumping out of it and out of sight.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was actually intended to be the first half of chapter 19, but as I was writing it the monster grew! On the plus side, I've got big chunks of chapter 20 written already so it should be up much sooner than this. 
> 
> Hope you like it guys. 
> 
> And as always, to everyone who commented, really, thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to absolutely make mine :D You're all so lovely.

Tina’s heart was hammering in her chest. Standing back with the rest of the team, she watched anxiously as Vice President Cline ripped down every one of the wards that stood between them and the inside of Picquery’s office. 

Rage and shame bubbled away inside of her. She tried to suppress it. Graves always told them to go into these situations with a clear head. But it was difficult. 

Because they’d wasted so much time! Almost five minutes, squandered, waiting for an ambush that never came after Grindelwald’s people started disapparating, one by one. Over five minutes until they realised that Graves and Picquery hadn’t just gone terribly quiet, but were actually missing. It was 10 minutes until they put together the bits and pieces that everyone had seen during the battle and realised, with mounting horror, what had happened. 

If Tina’s ring hadn’t started buzzing when it did, they’d probably still be trying to come up with a plan for how to proceed.

So no matter how much she attempted to control it, to push it down, Tina was furious, and she was ashamed. But most of all, she was absolutely terrified. It didn’t bear thinking about what Grindelwald could do to a person in the time that they had taken to pull themselves together and follow the ring, one hop at a time - from upstate New York all the way back to the city. And the monster seemed to have a particularly sadistic streak when it came to their boss too. 

No matter how desperately she hoped, realistically, there was every chance that they were about to find the bodies of the most powerful people of their country behind Picquery’s heavy, oak office doors. There was every chance that their latest fumble had cost Percival his life. 

The last ward came down with a resounding bang, and those heavy doors swung outwards with another. 

With her heart in her throat, Tina ran into the cavernous room along with the others, and was immediately met with the sight of Madame Picquery on the floor and unresponsive. She looked serene. Her hands folded neatly over her middle, her wand slipped beneath them. She looked… she couldn’t be-

“She’s fine,” said a familiar voice. “Got hit by a stunner. But she’s alive.”

Tina whirled around and gasped with relief. Graves! He was alive, sitting back against one of the bookcases that lined the wall, looking decidedly worse for wear. But he was alive and that was so much more than what Tina had, in her gut, been expecting. 

Though the more she looked at him,  the more her relief began to fade. He really wasn’t in a good way. At all. He was covered in mud, blood, bruises and scrapes. There was a rather nasty cut that very nearly reached from his brow to his hairline and was oozing blood rather steadily. His nose was also dribbling scarlet. 

He hadn’t made moves to get up either. He was just watching them impassively, like he were observing from a distance. Like he wasn’t really there.

She bit her lip, her wand trembling in her hand. She’d seen that look on his face before. She’d seen it the night she and Queenie had found him in his home. When all of this had started. She’d seen it after Grindelwald-

Mercy Lewis, no!

“Boss-”

“Goldstein, stay back,” Cline snapped before striding forward himself, his wand trained on Graves, who watched him approach with the same empty gaze. 

Cline flicked his wand and something flew from their boss’ lap. Her stomach lurched when one half of his once handsome wand rolled before her boots. 

“On your feet, Graves,” the Vice President ordered cooly. “Your identity needs to be confirmed.”

For a second Tina found herself struck dumb by the direction the situation had suddenly turned. Somehow, in spite of this happening a few times now, it had caught her entirely by surprise. But it didn’t take long for that surprise to give way to indignant rage. And it sounded like she wasn’t the only one who was furious. 

“Excuse me?!” she cried. 

“He needs a healer!” Malik snapped from where he was checking over Picquery. 

An outraged snarled ripped itself from her throat when Cline not only ignored them, but bound Graves’ hands behind his back and pulled him to his feet himself. 

“We need to confirm his identity, you must see that,” the man snapped, finally turning to acknowledge them. “I’ll not have Grindelwald slip through our fingers again,” he muttered. 

“Too late for that, I’m afraid,” Graves replied, with the air of a man commenting on the weather. “Your claim to further fame jumped out of the window while you were pulling the wards down.”

“We’ll see,” Cline replied cooly, before pulling the other man over to the team of aurors. 

“Put him in one of the interrogation rooms and guard him. I must see to the President’s care.”

Tina’s face had gone scarlet with rage, rage that doubled when Graves visibly suppressed a flinch when Simpson reluctantly took his arm. This was wrong! So wrong!

She had half a mind to hex Cline where he stood and say he tripped. They could get Graves to the hospital as well and just say they’d confirmed his identity already. Yes, that was an idea. The others wouldn’t rat her out. And if they did, quite frankly she didn’t care. Vice President or not, ignorant to the facts or not, he had no right-!

“Tina, it’s fine,” Graves said, cutting off her indignant (and mildly seditious) train of thought. . 

“Sir,” Tina uttered, falling silent when she met his eye, which seemed to focus properly for the first time so far. 

“Please, stand down,” he said. “I’m me. Let’s just go through the motions and get it over with.”

She faltered a moment longer, before biting her lip and glancing over to the others. 

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” Cruz muttered before leading the way out of the room. 

Tina shot a dirty look over her shoulder. She waited for Simpson to quickly scurry forward and grab the pieces of Graves’ wand, before making her way out of the office, down the hall and to the elevator with the others. They closed ranks. Malik, the largest of their number, pulling his coat over Graves’ shoulders, covering his bound hands in case anyone walked past and spotted them. The last thing their boss needed was people gossiping and spreading falsehoods far and wide. None of them commented on the flinch he gave when Malik did this though. 

Tina did not like how slow they had to go, or how badly Graves seemed to be limping, nor the pain that was lining his face. He didn’t say anything, but it was clear that he wasn’t in a good way at all. 

She chewed anxiously on her lip. He needed to go to a healer. 

“If we say you collapsed, Boss, then we can take you to the hospital wing instead,” Simpson muttered as they waited for the elevator. “Nobody would know.”

Chambers nodded emphatically. 

“If Cline wants to keep on being a dick, he can get the warlocks to check you there.”

Tina and the others all voiced their agreement but were promptly silenced by a shake of Percival’s head.

“It’s not worth the risk. If people find out any of you took liberties that could have _ aided the escape of Gellert Grindelwald _ \- and believe me, if The Ghost get their hands on the story, that’s exactly what this would be - I can’t guarantee that it would just be your careers that people call for. We have to do this by the book,” he said. 

“But Sir-”

“It’s not up for discussion,” Graves replied firmly, his eyes sweeping over all of them. Once again Tina was struck by how hollow they seemed. Before they could protest further, the elevator arrived and Graves stepped inside it.

“Interrogation Chambers please, Red,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and arching his brow pointedly at the rest of them. With varying degrees of audible reluctance, they obediently filed in as well. 

“Gotcha, Director,” Red replied, slamming the doors shut behind the last of their team and sending them back down into the bowels of the building. 

Before long they were all gathered uneasily in the interrogation chamber, Graves sitting on the wrong side of the table once again, blood dripping from his nose onto the top of it. Each drop sounded deafening in the silent room. 

Tina ground her teeth. This wasn’t right! This wasn’t right at all. He should be in hospital. He was clearly hurt! He was clearly Mr Graves! He should be being seen to by a healer, not sat behind an interrogation table!

The room still gave her the heebie-jeebies too. She was starting to think it always would. She didn’t want to be in here. She didn’t want Percival to be in here. They  _ shouldn’t _ be in here!

The door swung open and Cline strode inside. Behind him trailed a trio of old warlocks (each with a rather aghast look on their face when they spotted the state of their subject was in), the familiar face of Mr Falco - the legilimens who’d tried to help them track down Collins and Wilson, and a far less welcome addition.

Cline strode over to the table and set down a notepad and fountain pen, tapping the latter with his wand, prompting it to spring to life and start scribbling notes. 

“Auror Hansen will be conducting this interrogation,” Cline announced, ignoring their undisguised outrage at the development. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Malik snarled. 

“Him?!” Cruz snapped. 

Hansen smirked over at them (Tina never wanted to hex a person more than she did in that moment), before turning to Clines. “It seems the director has surrounded himself with a party of yes-men, as I said. It was wise of you to be concerned.”

Graves eyed the other man coolly, holding his gaze for a moment, before turning his attention to Cline as well. 

“It ought to be noted, for the record, that Mr Hansen resigned from his position in the department over a week ago. As a result, he no longer holds the rank of auror,” he said. “He, instead, should be officially noted as a Qualified Representative for the DMLE, in lieu of a senior member of staff. For the record”

Cline paused, before inclining his head in acknowledgment. He either missed or ignored the nasty curl Hansen’s lips had taken as Graves spoke up. 

“Very well.  _ Mr _ Malcolm Hansen will be serving as a Qualified Representative for the DMLE,” he replied. 

“Though there are senior members of staff on hand,” Percival observed, inclining his head to where Tina stood with Malik and Cruz. . 

“Concerns have been raised about loyalty trouncing sound judgment,” Williams replied apathetically.

Tina’s scowl darkened at that, though it was Chambers who voiced her thoughts. 

“I wonder who rose those concerns.”

“Let’s begin,” Hansen drawled. 

“Mr Cline, there has to be somebody else who can conduct this check,” Tina said, stepping forward as the warlock’s reluctantly set about casting all the normal revealing charms on Graves, drawing the occasional shudder or hitched breath from the man. 

“Ms Goldstein, your commentary is not required or desired.”

“Hansen practically staged a mutiny before resigning his post. He is hardly impartial. He can’t be the right person to conduct this check.”

“Goldstein, I will conduct this interrogation how I see fit,” Cline replied cooly, twisting around to fix her with a firm stare. “The stakes are too high to allow sentiment to get in the way. This is precisely why Mr Hansen was asked to take part.”

“But that’s not Grindelw-!”

“Tina,” Graves said firmly, cutting her off. “Enough.”

Tina faltered, eyes wide as she turned her attention back to the man. He nodded firmly to her, before shuddering as another spell washed over him. She hesitated a moment before gritting her teeth and stepping back in line with the others, nodding. Getting kicked out before it was absolutely necessary wouldn’t help him, she told herself. Then Hansen would have complete control. Cline definitely didn’t seem inclined to rein him in. 

Hansen eyed the five of them, lined up along the back of the interrogation room and, as if reading her mind, turned swiftly to Cline. 

“I think it would be wise if  _ Mr Graves’  _ team left the room. We shouldn’t have interruptions.”

“Not happening, Hansen,” Malik said before any of them could object. 

“Vice Presiden-”

“Mr Vice President, if this man is in fact Grindelwald, sending all the  _ actual _ aurors in the room outside would be a incredibly foolish and widely ridiculed move on your part, should things come to a head,” he replied cooly. “And if he is, in fact, the Director - as we all know, and this check is conducted fairly - as it must be, then you will have no interruptions from any of us. We  _ all _ want to see Mr Graves taken to a healer as soon as possible and will not prolong that longer than it already has been.”

Hansen’s lips curled nastily at that. He turned expectantly back to Cline. 

The other man shrugged.

“As long as there are no further interruption, I see no harm.”

Tina smirked triumphantly at that. They’d won this round it seemed. She gave Malik a congratulatory nod before focusing back on the situation at hand. Hansen scowled, but didn’t argue the point further, shifting his focus moodily back to Graves instead.

“Well?” he snapped at the warlocks.

“No disillusionment charm has been used, so far as we can tell,” the oldest of the collection of wizards replied, a tad snippy at being addressed so abruptly. 

“Have you tested for potions yet?”

“A healer should see to him firs-”

“The sooner you co-operate the sooner he can see a damn healer,” Hansen snapped. 

“I’m starting to notice how much nicer it has actually been this week, without dealing with this shit all the time,” Chambers muttered under his breath to Simpson. 

“Excuse me?!” Hansen snapped, twisting back around. 

Chambers sniffed and puffed out his chest stubbornly. “I said-” 

Graves cleared his throat pointedly, cutting the younger auror off before he could retort. Tina smirked. Even bruised and bloodied, Graves had more control over the situation than Hansen seemed capable of. 

Chambers deflated grumpily and, glaring daggers at the other man, muttered, “Nothing.”

Hansen glowered back, before eventually turning back to the warlock. 

“Well, go on!” he snapped. 

The old wizard pursed his lips disaprovingly, before turning deliberately to Graves - who nodded his consent. 

“Very well then,” he muttered to a glowering Hansen (whose power trip over his former boss was clearly not what he’d imagined). Hefting a small case up onto the table, the old man grumpily set about administering doses of a variety of potions to Graves. He had to hold the vials to the other man’s lips, rather degradingly, as his hands were still bound behind his back and neither Hansen nor Cline had moved to release him. 

Once the last dose was administered, the warlock stood back and waited. A minute passed in complete silence. Nothing happened.

The warlock turned back to Hansen and Cline and declared firmly for the record, “Mr Graves has not reacted to any of the counteragents administered.”

“Satisfied now?” Tina grumbled, folding her arms tight over her chest. She wanted to get out of this room. They  _ needed _ to get Percival to a healer. 

Hansen sniffed. 

“Not yet,” he said. “Mr Falco?”

The legilimens arched one of his bushy brows, raking knobbly fingers idly through his long beard all the while. 

“Yes?”

“Examine the suspect’s mind,” Hansen ordered, ignoring Chambers’ and the old warlock’s outraged echoes of the term ‘Suspect?” as he waved a hand in Graves’ direction. 

Falco’s brow climbed higher. 

“It’s him,” he said simply.

Hansen paused, before leaning back in his chair and shooting the man an exceedingly unimpressed look. 

“Oh? You checked did you? Just like that?”

“I’d recognise those walls anywhere,” Falco replied, shrugging. 

“Ah, so you’ve not gotten past them-?’

“Mr Graves is an accomplished occlumens, as I told you when you summoned me. To force my way through his shields, even with his co-operation, is immensely difficult, traumatic and time-consuming. But most of all, unnecessary, as I recognise his mind quite clearly without doing so.”

“And you would stake your reputation on that?” Hansen drawled. 

“I  _ will  _ stake my reputation on that. And no legilimens worth their salt would negate my stance,” Falco replied calmly, giving a nod that said quite clearly that that was that, and stepping back. 

Hansen grumbled furiously as he turned back around. 

“Let the record note that  _ Rupert Falco _ refused to co-operate with Auror Hansen’s investigation,” he said coolly. 

_ “Representative Hansen _ ,” Graves corrected idly, leaning back in his chair. “And this is,  _ officially _ and Identity Check, Mr Hansen. Not an Investigation. No matter how much it is being conducted in that manner.”

Hansen’s eyes narrowed at the correction, before he leaned back in his chair himself, drumming his fingers against the tabletop. 

“What’s your full name?” he asked. 

“Percival Gondolphus Graves,” Graves replied, sighing deeply. “He knows that.”

“Age.”

“39. And he knows that.”

“Place of Birth?”

“New York City. All of this is on public record,” Graves replied, his temper starting to flare at last. 

“Your father’s name?”

Graves froze.  _ Tina _ froze. Where the hell was Hansen going with this? Wherever it was, she didn’t like it. 

If the ice cold look Graves shot Hansen was anything to go by, she wasn’t the only one. 

“Magnus Lucian Graves. Which is public record-”

“Date of death?”

Tina balked. 

“Now come on-” Malik snapped, his face flushing darker with outrage.

“Auror Malik, our agreement,” Hansen drawled, arching his brow before turning back to Graves with a rather malicious smirk. “Answer the question, or more rigorous tests will have to come into play.”

A muscle in Graves jaw twitched as his eyes narrowed again. Tina had to place a hand on Chambers’ arm to keep him from reaching for his wand to retaliate (and to keep herself from doing so as well). 

“That’s  _ also _ public record.”

“Answer the question  _ Mr Graves _ ,” Cline said, his apathetic mask still firmly in place as he observed.

“What does this prove?”

“All in good time. Answer the question,” Hansen replied, nodding to a reluctant Mr Falco. “Or we can do this the hard way.”

“Mr Vice President I must protes-” Falco uttered, before trailing off when Graves shook his head.

Letting out a deep breath, he turned his attention back to Hansen and Cline and icily replied , “April 29th, 1904. He was killed in a raid. As Grindelwald could have found out in any number of ways.”

“How were you alerted?”

The muscle in Graves’ jaw twitched more violently. 

“The headmaster called me to his office,” he grit out. 

“What were his exact words.”

Tina was seeing red. 

“Stop it,” she growled. “You’re just taking shots you foul-”

“Goldstein!”

“No! You’re just using this as a way to have a go at Mr Graves with impunity,” Tina snapped, blood roaring in her ears she was so incensed. Because how dare he?! How dare he bring up the death of someone’s parents as a way to hurt them. How dare he do this to Graves in the first place?! He’d done nothing to deserve this. 

Just as her rage reached a peak, one of the light bulbs above them shattered, shocking her from it for a moment. 

Hansen glanced up. He arched his brow and smirked as he turned back to face her. 

“How childish,” he drawled. “Miss Goldstein, perhaps you ought to remove yourself. Before you have any more… outburst.”

Tina glowered furiously back at the foul man. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Perhaps you should, Tina,” Cruz spoke up behind her. 

The stab of betrayal hit Tina a little sharper than she’d expected it to. She spun around, eyes wide with surprise and hurt. 

“What?” she uttered. 

“You should go, Tina,” Cruz replied firmly, meeting her eye unblinkingly. 

Tina frowned. 

“Go to the hospital wing. See if anyone’s available,” she said pointedly, still unblinking. “I can tell you’re a bit  _ stunned _ by it all. 

Tina froze. Of course. 

Nodding curtly, she spun on her heel and marched out of the room.  As soon as the door slammed shut behind her she took off running towards the hospital wing, hoping beyond hope that the president had woken up by the time she reached it. 

At last, luck seemed to be on their side. 

Picquery was awake and sitting up in bed, looking a little rattled but more or less herself.

So Tina wasted no time in charging forward. 

“Madame President!” she gasped, skidding to a halt in front of her bed. 

“Goldstein,” Picquery replied, her attention snapping onto her with far more intensity than it ever had before (and she’d incriminated herself with the death of a no-maj in front of the International Confederation.  _ That _ was saying something). “Graves! Where is he?”

“That’s why I’m here Ma’am. Vice President Cline took him into custody, to have his identity checked. Except he got Malcolm Hansen doing the check. He’s been cleared for spelled illusions, potions, a legilimens has identified him as himself and he’s answered security questions, but Hansen’s taking liberties to act on a grudge. He’s not been seen to by a healer yet! Ma’am, none of us have the authority to call it off, but-”

“Lead the way!” Picquery snapped, pushing herself off the bed. 

She swayed on the spot the second she was on her feet, to the point where Tina actually stepped forward and took her arm to steady her. But she was shaken off soon enough and the woman seemed steady afterwards. 

“Lead on,” she said again, more firmly. 

Tina nodded and did just that. As fast as Picquery could managed, the two of them bolted through the halls and down to the interrogation chambers. The other woman was ashen-faced and shaky when they finally arrived (it must have been some stunner she’d been hit with) but there was no mistaking the determination in her eyes as she yanked the door open and strode inside. And what a scene there was inside.

If the situation wasn’t so serious, it would have been hysterical. 

Chambers had Hansen by the throat, Cruz was half-heartedly attempting to pull him off of the other man rather while Malik held Simpson back. Cline was barking orders from behind him while the trio of warlocks had gathered in the corner and were using one of the kicked over chairs to poke away the brawlers when they stumbled too close for comfort. Falco had a pipe dangling from his lip as he combed out his beard quite calmly on the other side of the room. Percival alone seemed to have spotted their arrival, squinting over at them, looking like he was in some considerable discomfort from all the noise and jostling. 

“There had better be a  _ very _ good excuse why a simple identification check has ended up a display I would expect from first years students!” Picquery snapped, striding forward.

Silence swiftly fell over the room. Though it didn’t last. Hansen shoved Chambers and Cruz away and stepped forward. 

“Madame President! I was conducting a routine check, as requested, and was set upon by Graves’ lackey’s as soon as I started making headway!” he snapped. “This is highly suspicious! I  _ demand _ that they all be placed in cells until a full investigation can be conducted as to where their loyalties lie.”

“I expect it’s with their director, Mr Hansen,” Picquery replied coolly. “Who, from what I’ve been told, has proven his authenticity through spells, potions, legilimens and security questions. In short, all of the predetermined conditions for situations such as these. Enlighten me, what measures did you come up with to improve upon this agreed upon and certified procedure?”

Hansen faltered for a moment, before lifting his chin stubbornly. 

“Putting pressure on the suspect during the interrogation is a perfectly legitimate auror techniqu-”

“ _ You _ are no longer an auror, Mr Hansen,” Picquery replied coldly. “And  _ this _ isn’t an investigation. All you have managed to do is prolong an ordeal of an injured colleague and shine a light on your own character, and let me tell you it’s not a flattering light in the slightest.”

She turned to the Vice President, eyes hard and cold still. 

“The task should have been dealt to a senior auror, Cline. That is procedure.”

“There was a question of loyalty overriding clarity, Madame President.”

“That is why  _ you _ were sitting in. To be an outside perspective and insure procedures are followed. Not to okay an abuse of power,” she replied firmly, before summoning the record with a swish of her wand. She flicked through the pages, her sculpted brows rising higher and higher the further she read. 

“It is a good thing you resigned your post as an auror, Mr Hansen, because I would have fired you here and now otherwise. Your line of questioning is  _ disgusting _ ,” she said, a quiet rage burning in her usually stoic face as she stared the large man down. “In fact, report to my office Monday morning. Your role here in MACUSA is in need of urgent discussion,” she said, before turning to address Graves at last, who was still sitting on his chair, his eyes shut, a mildly pained expression on his face. 

“Percival Graves, what was the first thing you ever said to me?” she asked. 

Graves blinked a couple of times, looking up at her blearily, before replying, “ _ Is that supposed to impress me? _ ”

“It’s him. Release him this instant and get him to the hospital wing for pity’s sake!” Picquery snapped, the others eagerly jumping to. Tina followed suit but froze when Graves snapped back to alertness suddenly. 

“Tina. Look out.”. 

She jumped at the sharp tone, before squeaking when she spotted Picquery beginning to sway again. A second later she was topping over and Tina had to lunge forward to catch her in time.

“Hansen, get out,” Graves snapped as he got back to his feet, rubbing his chafed wrists as he rounded the table and properly took charge once again. Hansen faltered for a moment, before huffing and stalking out of the room. Graves paid him no mind, turning his attention to the warlocks and Mr Falco instead. 

“Gentlemen, thank you for your assistance today.”

“Director,” each of them acknowledge as they too filled out, the latter giving a cheeky wink as he did. 

Graves turned back to them. 

“We’re going to be having a talk about this,” he said, motioning to them and their rather ruffled appearance (well, more so than they had been already). “For now though, the President needs seeing to by healers. Let’s get a move on.”

“Boss,” Malik uttered, nodding firmly as he and Cruz set about transporting Madame Picquery out of the room, Cline throwing Graves a quick glance, before slinking out sullenly after them without a word. 

Graves shook his head before nodding to Tina, Chambers and SImpson. 

“Come on,” he said, before following after them as well. 

Finally,  _ finally _ they arrived at the hospital wing, only to find the place was abuzz with activity. Tina hadn’t noticed it before, having been rather single minded in her mission to track down Picquery and get her to help. But it seemed to wounded from the battle of Beacon Mountain had started trickling in at last. Aurors from across the country, covered in blood, mud and bandages, were bustled this way and that by the healers and nurses. 

“Merlin’s Beard, another one,” a severe looking witch in healer’s robes sighed when she spotted them, and promptly whisked off a suddenly quiet Graves to one of the empty beds nearby. 

Tina glanced over to Simpson and Chambers, nodding for them to go get checked up themselves, before making her way over to the man. 

“Let’s have a look at you,” the healer muttered as she took Percival’s chin and moved his head this way and that to get a look at the lacerations that could be hiding under the blood and dirt that was caked over it. 

She tutted. 

“These aren’t too serious by the looks of it. Few nasty bumps though,” she said. “Were you hit by any spells?”

“A few,” Graves uttered, blinking a couple of times like he was having trouble focusing on her. 

The healer nodded. 

“I’ll have one of the healers that specialises in spell damage come by and check up on-”

One of the aurors from a bed nearby started to seize on his bed, grabbing the witches attention. 

“Wait here, I’ll be right back!” she snapped, before charging over to attend to the situation. 

Tina blinked, before moving to pull the curtain and block the view. 

She bit her lip and turned to Graves. 

“Boss,” she uttered. 

“I’m fine, Tina. No need to worry,” he uttered, fiddling idly with the broken pieces of his wand, sitting in his lap. 

“Percival. You’re not fine,” Tina uttered, stepping forward. 

Graves tensed for a second, before lifting his eyes to meet hers once again, face guarded. She flinched. She was being shut out again, she could see it plain as day. And it felt like a punch right to the gut. 

He dropped his gaze soon enough, back down to the pieces of wood in his lap. 

“You should get seen to yourself, Tina,” he said, voice softer than the stoney look in his eyes would have suggested. 

“No I’m staying-”

“Tina, please go and get yourself checked out,” he said, glancing up again, and for a moment the walls came down, just a bit, just for the time being. “Please.”

Tina bit her lip anxiously. 

“Tina, please,” Graves uttered, quieter still. 

“Alright, Boss,,” she muttered, giving him a small nod. “Of course.”

Shooting him a small, encouraging smile, she reluctantly pushed off the edge of the bed and stepped back. 

“Call if you need anything,” she said, before stepping back out into the chaos and joining the cue of mildly banged up aurors who all knew that they weren’t going to be seen to any time soon. 

She grimaced as she watched the wizard from before thrash terribly in his hospital bed. She didn’t recognise him. He must have been one of the satellite aurors. He stopped eventually though, and it seemed to be down to something the healers had done because they all looked relieved rather than resigned. One by one the team of healers that had stepped in to assist splintered back off to their original patients. 

Tina rubbed tiredly at her face as the tension that had been building inside of her throughout the day finally began to drain away. It was over. At last. She had no idea how to deal with what came next. If what she thought had happened to Percival  _ had  _ actually happened, then they were very likely back to square one in regards to his recovery from that monster. But they’d find a way to help him, she was sure. Somehow, they’d find a way.

“Excuse me,” the curt healer from before said, snapping Tina from her thoughts. 

She blinked and sat up properly. 

“Yes?” she said, jumping to her feet. “What’s the matter. Is it Mr Graves?”

“...In a sense. I can’t seem to find him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeeeah, another cliffhanger. Sorry guys. The next chapter should be up soon though.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear I sincerely thought this chapter would be out sooner! I really did. I ended up re-writing all of the stuff I had down previously and it just kept on growing and AH 
> 
> So sorry for the wait man. But I really hope you like this chapter and as always, thank you so much, sooooo much for all the absolutely lovely comments you left last chapter. You've all made me incredibly happy!!

He’d had worse. That was the fact of the matter. Grindelwald had done worse to him. He’d done worse many times over. His rabid dogs of followers had too. They’d hurt him worse, humiliated him worse, they’d made him cry and beg for mercy that he knew, even in the throes of terror and agony, that he’d never be allowed.

At least he’d fought this time. That should have been some small comfort.

There were times when that hadn’t been the case. When he’d been too tired or too hurt to try. When he’d disgraced himself before they had the chance to, and rolled onto his stomach, spreading his legs for them just so they would take what they wanted and not hurt him anymore. He always fought harder after those episodes - the shame compelling him beyond injury and beyond terror. But it still happened.

Not this time though. He’d fought. He’d fought damn hard. And even still, he’d had worse. So why did this all feel so much more horrible, so much more shameful, more violating than all those other times?

Because it was fresh? Because he’d not been expecting it? Because it had happened here, in MACUSA? That could be it.

His home, that had been a violation. But  _ MACUSA… _ MACUSA was something else, something more. He’d put his soul into this place. He’d walked its halls a thousand times over. He’d slept in it, bled in it, made and lost friends in it. He’d made a name for himself here. Him, Percival, not just ‘ _ A Graves _ ’ but him . He’d become a man within these walls. And Grindelwald had taken that from him. Stripped it from him and tarnished it with his stain forevermore. A stain to match the one he’d put on Percival himself. And Percival had let him.

Yes. That was it. That was why this time felt worse.

He chewed his lip, dropping his gaze down to the broken pieces of his wand, sitting lifelessly in his lap. Another piece of his old life, of him, that Grindelwald had destroyed.

Metal clattered loudly beyond the curtains, shaking him violently from his thoughts. His heart leapt painfully.  _ Grindelwald _ !

_ “SAMUEL! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO RUN IN MY DEPARTMENT?!” _

_ “I’m sorry Madame Josephine! I’m sorry! But Bed 7-!” _

_ “Yes yes, show me.” _

Percival panted, pressing a trembling hand to his mouth to keep himself from making any noise. He dragged deep, shaking breaths through his nose, which was still blocked with tacky blood. It wasn’t Grindelwald. It wasn’t. It wasn’t. But it could be. Any time now he could… right here, right under everyone’s nose he could,  _ he would _ slip behind the curtains and… and…

A pained shriek bounced off the stone walls around him. The bed just beyond the curtains was still rattling violently as the auror on top of it convulsed. Someone nearby retched and the stench of gastric acid and breakfast filled the air, turning Percival’s stomach just that little bit more. Usually he wasn’t so squeamish, but overwhelmed as he was, and already light headed from panic, it was too much. He needed to get out! It wasn’t safe! MACUSA wasn’t safe! Nowhere was!

_ “I ASKED FOR THE BLOOD REPLENISHMENT 10 MINUTES AGO! WHERE IS IT?!” _

_ “RIGHT NEXT TO YOU!” _

_ “CAN WE KEEP THE YELLING TO A MINIMUM PLEASE?! MERCY LEWIS I CAN’T HEAR MYSELF THINK!” _

Percival’s head was spinning, ringing with the chaos around him, his own thoughts, the pain that lingered quite considerably from both being being hit point blank by a cruciatus curse and knocking against solid wood repeatedly. No matter how hard he tried, there was no pushing past it. He could hardly breathe. It was too much! He wasn’t strong enough for this!

His nerve was starting to slip. He needed to get out! He needed to get away!

He couldn’t breakdown here. It was coming, he could feel it. But he couldn’t do that here. Not around other people. Not where they could see and feel obliged to try and help or comfort him. He didn’t deserve that, their care or sympathy. He had no right to steal those kindnesses (which were so precious and scarce in the world) from the men and women around him. The ones who had fought and fallen to protect their country, not bent over and spread their legs for the very man who’d struck them down - personally or by proxy. Because that’s what he’d done, wasn’t it? Yes he’d fought, but it hadn’t been enough. He may as well have not bothered.

_ “Where’s the Skele-Grow?!” _

_ “I need some help here!” _

_ “I’m gonna be sick again-” _

_ “We’ve got a fainter!” _

_ “Get him to a bed!” _

With blood roaring in his ears, making his head pound painfully, Percival got to his feet. His legs trembled terribly under him, but they held. He could walk. And so he did just that. Everyone was too preoccupied by the chaos around them to pay him any mind, so he slipped from behind the curtains and through the crowd unhindered.

He fled the hospital wing, and then the building entirely, taking off down the street as fast as his battered body would allow. He let his feet lead him as he tried to pull himself together again - to come up with a plan other than ‘ _ getting away _ ’. Apparition was out. Not without a wand. He could try, but he’d probably splinch himself in the state he was in. And that would just be the cherry on top of it all, wouldn’t it? People could argue that Grindelwald wasn’t just any wizard, and there wasn’t so much shame in being bested by him (they’d be wrong, but they could argue it). But a grown man splinching himself, wandless or not, that would be too much for even the most forgiving of his backers to swallow, surely.

Disgust stirred in his belly at the thought as the panic momentarily receded. He’d thought so much of himself once. He’d been so arrogant, so blind.

Lightning cracked loudly from the dark, swirling clouds above, shaking Percival sharply from his thoughts. He stopped and looked up at the sky just as the first, fat droplets of rain came falling down from above. Without any umbrella, or even his coat, he was drenched in seconds, and left on the verge of either laughter or tears. His life was turning into a newspaper comic strip. A mean spirited, dark humoured comic strip and he was the schmuck that featured in it day in, day out.

The mud and blood began to wash away, the rain stripping what filth had caked onto his clothes. He should feel cleaner. But he didn’t. The rain couldn’t wash the muck from inside of him away. It couldn’t wash off the mark that Grindelwald had put on him, the one that everyone else seemed to see. The mark that made people like Monroe Cline, a man who’d worked with his father, who’d known him since he was a young, gap-toothed and lisping little boy, look at him with distrust… disdain… disgust. No amount of rain could wash that mark from him. It was on him forever. It would be on his name and the name of his family forever. The weak link indeed.

His eyes began to burn. He squeezed them tight, clenching his teeth, holding the shattered pieces of himself together with all his might. Not now. Not here. Soon, but not yet.

An icy wind whipped around him, shaking him from his thoughts once again.

Dragging in a heaving breath, he took in his surroundings properly for the first time. He was a few blocks away from MACUSA, though he wasn’t entirely familiar with the area. He would usually apparate right around it. But there was a subway entrance a little further down the street and he figured that that was as good an option as any.

Wrapping his arms tight around himself and trembling like a leaf, Percival followed the flow of no-maj’s making their way to it and stumbled down the steps to the station. The deeper he went, the more a creeping sense of claustrophobia began to set in, but he ignored it. It was either this or standing out in the rain until someone felt compelled to try and talk to him. This was better. Far better.

A cold wind chased them down the stairs and Percival was wracked with another bout of shivering, his teeth chattering from the chill as he limped unsteadily onto the platform.

Two trains were clattering to a stop on either side of him, and for the first time that day, it seemed there was a simple choice to make.

One would take him back to the Goldstein’s apartment, where he should probably go. Where he was  _ expected _ ,  _ ordered _ to go. Where Queenie or Tina would find him and order him back to the hospital, and dote on him, and care far more than he had any right for them to.

The second would take him to Brooklyn, to the station just down the street from his apartment. His  _ home _ .

It wasn’t a decision really. The second the thought sprung to mind, Percival found himself gripped by a familiar, bone deep longing.  _ Home _ . He wanted to go home. He wanted to be left alone, to curl up in his bed, in his clothes, surrounded by his wards and magic. He wanted his space. He wanted his home. His heart ached for it.

Swallowing thickly, and hugging himself just a little tighter, he shuffled over to the train that would take him there and stepped onboard.

Again, claustrophobia set in. He felt himself becoming overwhelmed by it. It pressed down on his chest and made his breath catch in his throat. He felt like he was choking. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t. He had to keep it together. Just a little longer. He leaned heavily against the pole before him, gripping it tight to stay upright. He felt exposed. Vulnerable (he had no wand, at all . He  _ was _ vulnerable).

It didn’t matter. He just needed to get through this. Just one more inconvenience, one more discomfort, and for once there’ll be a reward at the end of it. He’d get to walk through his door, scrub himself raw, go to bed, and just for a little while forget all of this had happened. Pretend that everything was normal. His heart ached for that. He couldn’t remember wanting anything more than he did that.

He just needed to get through this. That was all.

The trip was longer than he’d like, stifling and uncomfortable. The chill, for the time being, faded but his clothes stuck to him uncomfortably. The wound on his head was still dribbling blood, running a warm rivulets down his face and staining his shirt. He looked rubbish, he could tell from the glimpses he caught of himself in the window’s reflection and from the wary glances he caught from those around him. He was sure it was as much a relief to them as it was him when his stop arrived at last.

Walking was more painful since exhaustion had well and truly setting in. Everything hurt. Every step shot sharp spikes of pain through him in one way or another. He pressed on. Just a little further and he’d be home.

And soon enough he was, though it wasn’t quite the sight that he’d been hoping for on the train.

The front door had been left cracked open and as Percival stumbled to a stop by the foot of the stairs leading to it, he could hear the distant murmur of voices inside. Instantly trepidation and longing gave way to dread.

He looked around, immediately on his guard. Grindelwald wouldn’t be so obvious. Or would he? Maybe? What is the last thing that everyone would be expecting him to do after kidnapping and torturing the president and director of security? To retreat to the director of securities home and do it to him all over again.

His heart leapt into his throat. 

He didn’t have his wand. He didn’t have any other weapon either, and he was too tired and sore to fight properly unarmed. He was defenseless. And he… he couldn’t handle another time. Every time he thought that, but this time he was certain. He couldn’t come back from it again. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“Watch it!” a No-Maj barked as he stormed past, his shoulder knocking against Percival’s, drawing a pained gasp from the man when it jostled a number of his many injuries.

It shook him back into action at least.

Well he couldn’t just do nothing. If Grindelwald was in there, or some of his followers, he had to act. He couldn’t run off back to MACUSA without information either. He couldn’t run to MACUSA  _ at all  _ in fact, physically or magically. So there was that to think of. He’d either have to catch the train (too slow) or try and sneak through to floo himself there, or risk apparating and hope he didn’t cut off anything important. Either way, he had to act. He had to establish the facts. No matter how much he wanted to just hide and not get involved. He didn’t have a choice. Do it for Collins, for Wilson, for his team. They are the ones who’ll suffer if he didn’t try. If his cowardice won out.

Screwing his eyes shut he drew in a fortifying breath of cold air and forced himself forward.

Just as his boot hit the bottom step, the sound of loud hurried footsteps started to echo from behind the door as at least two people made their way down the hall towards it. Stumbling back, he hastily ducked into the tight alley running down the side of the building. He pressed himself into a narrow alcove and listened to the door click shut, before the wet slap of boots against pavement seemed to follow him.

He held his breath.

“I don’t know where else to look!” a familiar voice gasped, and Percival could have laughed with giddy relief. 

Tina. It was just Tina. Not Grindelwald. Not one of the monsters at his beck and call.

Squeezing his eyes shut he tipped his head back against the rough bricks and listened as she and her companion walked past.

“A pub maybe? I could do with a drink after today. He could probably do with 10,” Cruz suggested.

“I guess,” Tina replied. “Well we’ve got nothing else to go on.”

Percival peaked out from behind his cover just in time to watch as the two witches whipped out of sight.

A twinge of guilt soured his relief. Tina was probably worried, and that was his doing. And he did feel bad about that. But neither guilt nor relief were any match for the renewed wave of desperate longing for home that washed over him a second later.

Dragging in a shaking breath he stepped out from the alcove and limped back out of the alley, climbing the stairs one at a time to his front door.

Shivering as a winter wind whipped up around him, he pressed his forehead against the hardwood and shut his eyes, concentrating far harder than he usually would have to before finally the lock clicked open for him.

He bit his lip and pushed the heavy wood door open, stepping inside.

His stomach dropped.

The hall was empty. It had never been particularly decorated, but the pictures he’d hung up over the years, the scarves and coats that had always hung from the coatrack, the stray book that would normally be dog-eared and waiting for him on the spindly table beside it, they were all gone. And without seeing it, Percival knew the rest of the apartment would be the same.

The disappointment was crushing.

Dragging in a shuddering breath, he limped through to the living room and found himself proven right. Everything had been removed. His sofa. His books, the photo of his team, his writing desk and all his letters from Theseus - no doubt read and spelled by over a dozen crusty old warlocks by now (he winced at the thought, at the sting of another little violation).

He sagged back against the wall behind him, his breath catching in his throat as disappointment and embarrassment washed over him as surely as the hope had moments earlier. They’d have been taken away to be tested for spells, enchantments that could be compromising his wards. He realised the wards themselves that had been stripped away too. He should have noticed sooner. He should have known all along. Why wouldn’t they be? The warlocks would have had to peel them back one by one to test their strength. The house was empty and everything had been taken. Why would they put them back up when it was still a matter of investigation?

It even smelled different. Stale and… empty. Not like he remembered.

Numbness battled with despair as he shuffled further down the hall and found much of the same. All his belongings taken for inspection. His magic wiped clean from every fibre of the dwelling.

A wet laugh ripped free from his throat when he walked into his bedroom and found, unsurprisingly, it hadn’t been spared either. His bed bare, the mattress whisked away to places unknown. His shelves were empty. His clothes gone. The picture that he kept on his bedside table (which, itself, was missing), his favourite one of his parents, had been taken away as well. All of it was gone.

The empty house creaked around him, making him jump violently. Percival laughed some more, though his mirth was starting to sound more and more tearful, even to his own ears. The one familiar thing left about the place and it had frightened him.

Wrapping his arms tighter around himself and screwing his eyes shut, he tried to calm himself down, to settle, to step back from the edge. But it wasn’t easy when he was choking on bitter,  _ bitter _ disappointment.

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.

And so, biting his lip, unable to bear standing in the empty room, the bare bones of his old life, any longer - he did something he hadn’t done since he’d been a little boy.

Giggling wetly all the while at the sheer cruelty of his situation, of his own stupidity, he shuffled over to the open closet door, and stepped inside. Sliding down to to floor, he huddled alone in the small, dark space, and hid from it all. Suddenly he could breathe just a bit easier. He was less exposed, less vulnerable, and he couldn’t see as much of the empty room from inside. He could imagine that everything was as it always been beyond the closet. For a moment, just for a moment. He could try at least, but his own disgust and embarrassment was tainting that beautiful dream.

His eyes stung and he screwed them shut tight before tears could begin to properly form. But they formed regardless of his efforts.

His shoulders shook as he wept silently in the dark, pressing his face into the tops of his knees.

He’d just wanted to come home. That was all. But he didn’t have one anymore. Grindelwald had taken everything.

So he cried. Ashamed of every tear, every gasping breath or broken keen that ripped itself from him but unable to stop them from doing so. Humiliation burned the tips of his ears and his cheeks. He saw himself clearly throughout - a grown man, a failed wizard, a disappointment for all who knew his family’s reputation, curled up in his own closet, hiding from the world and weeping like a child.

He was pathetic. He was disgusted with himself. First Grindelwald, now this. Not for the first time, he was glad that his parents had passed. It was selfish and he loathed himself just a little more for the thought, but he was. If they saw him like this, if they knew what he’d become, how short he’d fallen of what they’d hoped for him. He squeezed his eyes shut as his imagination did the work for him, dragging more choked sobs from him. He’d failed. At every turn he’d failed them, he’d failed his team, Seraphina, himself. He’d failed so badly.

There was nothing more for it. So he cried, far longer than he’d like to admit. He’d never been the type of person to find comfort or relief from tears, but even still it seemed that once the dam broke they came regardless, and kept on coming until slowly, bit by bit, they dried away, leaving him feeling empty and embarrassed. There was no sense of unburdening, just shame. On top of it all, his head hurt even worse than before. 

With a shuddering breath, he pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and rubbed the sticky remnants of his tears away and slowly tried to piece himself back together.

Enough of this. Enough.

He had to get up now. Go back to the hospital. His team were out looking for him and that meant they weren’t getting seen to themselves. They were wasting energy and time on finding him while he hid away and snivelled like a coward. He was being selfish. He had to get up.

He scrubbed some more at his face (wincing when he rubbed over the fresh bruises that were no doubt colouring his face ugly shades of purple) before, with a mighty effort, hefting himself back up to his feet.

He sagged against the frame of the closet as soon as he was up. 

Mercy Lewis, he was in agony. Every part of him hurt. What had earlier been mere aches or twinges, in the midst of his panic-fuelled haze, seemed to have become entirely unbearable now the adrenaline had left his system entirely.

The walk back to the MACUSA was going to be torture, he could tell already. But he had to do it. It could be his own personal punishment for letting his emotions get the better of him. Honestly, he was supposed to be better than this-

He froze.

Someone was in the house. He could hear them. Slow, hesitant footsteps were echoing distantly from down the hall.

Taking a careful step out of the closet, his hand falling to his wand, only to remember with a small pang (and a stab of alarm) what state it was in.

He shifted back, further into the room, listening intently.

It wasn’t Grindelwald. He knew that right off the bat. The bastard could change just about anything about himself, but he always walked the same. Light and purposeful. Like a cat. His feet never took him anywhere his brain hadn’t already decided he’d go.

This person was being led by their feet and deciding on whether to proceed as they went.

So not Grindelwald.

Phelps walked loudly. Always had. No matter where he was being kept at the time, in the slaughterhouse or jammed into the crawl space of a house somewhere cold, he could always hear Phelps coming, and he could usually tell how bad it was going to be for him from what he heard.

But he’d never sounded as uncertain as this. And Phelps should have been in at the time.

Probably not Phelps then.

It wasn’t one of his aurors. He could tell their gaits apart from anyone else’s.

He stumbled back into the corner of the room, eyeing the door vigilantly.

The footsteps were getting louder.

Face scrunched up with pain, Percival leaned back heavily against the wall for support (yeah, there was definitely some nasty bruising all over his back). Breathing in steadily, he willed whatever power, whatever energy he had left to the tips of his fingers as he shifted so he was facing the door side on.

The second someone peeked around the corner, he sent a stunner straight through it, but they managed to pull out of the way before it struck.

“Don’t shoot!” a familiar voice cried.

Percival blinked, momentarily stunned (and more than a little dizzy from the charm).

“...Mr Kowalski?” he uttered, completely blindsided by this new development.

“Yes, yes Mr Graves, it’s me,” Jacob gasped, still hiding behind the door. “I swear. I’d prove it but I don’t know… ah.”

Percival, in spite of the pain and lingering anxiety of another imagined close call, rolled his eyes when Jacob promptly fluttered his apron in the doorway so he could see the logo, like a white flag or a matador’s cape.

“Yes, Jacob, I believe it’s you,” he groaned. A second later, his legs, which had already been trembling terribly, gave out beneath him, sending him slipping painfully into an undignified heap in the corner of the room. He gasped sharply at the impact.

Jacob peaked warily around the corner again, eyes wide and concerned.

Percival looked back at him, feeling suddenly very tired indeed. This is what his life had come down to, was it? Hunted by murderous fanatics, his own aurors, and his subordinate’s sister’s no-maj boyfriend. Mercy Lewis, people had considered him boring once. Duller than you’d think, that’s what they said.

“Right. I’m coming in,” Jacob called, holding up his hands as he stepped out from his cover. “Don’t shoot me, alright?”

“I don’t think I could if I wanted to,” Percival confessed, wrapping an arm around his aching ribs and blinking black spots from his vision. Mercy Lewis his head hurt.

“Jeez, Tina wasn’t lying about you being in a bad way,” the other man muttered, crouching down beside him.

“Tina sent you?”

“Nah. Well, she told Queenie and me what happened, then they went off looking… and I decided to try and help out a bit as well. Wasn’t expecting to be the one to find you, mind.”

“I can’t say I was expecting this either,” Percival replied, face screwed up with pain as he tried to shift into a position that wasn’t so immensely uncomfortable.

Jacob started (which, in turn, startled Percival).

“Oh! I brought this!” he cried, his hand suddenly diving into the pocket of his coat. Percival cringed instinctively. But when the other man pulled out again, a vial was clutched in his fist rather than a wand.

“Here, take it,” he said, pushing the bottle into Percival’s trembling hands.

He blinked.

“How in the name of Deliverance Dame did you get your hands on this?” he uttered, squinting down at the bottle of Murtlap Essence.

Jacob grinned bashfully.

“Borrowed it from the girls. I’m no genius, but I listen when people talk. How do you think I figured out where this place was? That does help with injuries, right?”

“Bruises and cuts, yes,” Percival replied with a nodded, grimacing as he shifted back so he was sitting up a little straighter. “Broken bones not so much.”

Jacob frowned.

“You got any of those?” he asked.

“I think I’ve busted a few ribs,” Percival muttered. “Nothing serious. This should take the edge off a lot of it. Thank you.”

“Glad it can help,” Jacob replied, a concerned little line creasing the down middle of his brows. “I’d have brought some aspirin or something, but I don’t know if that would work on you.”

“Probably best I don’t take blood thinners right now anyway,” Percival muttered as he set about hitching his damp shirt up high enough to apply the solution to the dark bruises colouring his belly and hips.

Jacob sucked in a breath through his teeth.

“He got you good, huh?” he uttered.

Percival grimaced and nodded.

“Not for the first time,” he muttered bitterly as he carefully rubbed the solution into tender skin, a soothing coolness started to seep in and ease the persistant ache of those injuries.

“I’m sure nobody holds it against you,” Jacob offered.

Percival grunted an acknowledgment to that but didn’t offer anymore. He wasn’t going to have this conversation with Jacob. The man seemed nice enough, he really did, but he’d need filling in on details that Percival just didn’t have the energy for. And even then, he had a sneaking suspicion he’d end up with a debate on his hands afterwards. He was Queenie’s beau after all.

So they lapsed into silence, Percival busying himself with applying the solution and trying not to be bothered by the other man’s presence. Slowly, far slower than he’d like (why were topical treatments always so slow to act?!) the ache started to dull, and as it did Percival found it just a little bit easier to breathe, which was a relief.

Jacob cleared his throat, shocking another sharp flinch from Percival, who’d momentarily forgotten he was there.

“The girls are real worried about you,” the other man said.

Percival hummed another acknowledgment, though the statement did have its intended effect. The guilt from earlier made itself known again, stirring up as he properly considered how worried they must be. They cared far too much for him.

He ducked his head and carried on applying the solution without comment.

“Why’d you leave?” Jacob pressed.

“I needed air,” he muttered, hoping that would be the end of the questions.  

Jacob gave him a look that made it very clear that he didn’t believe Percival in the slightest, but fortunately, he decided not to comment on it further than that, which Percival was grateful for. He did not have nearly enough energy for an argument right now.

Again, they lapsed into silence.

He let out a soft curse as he tried to reach the worst of the bruising up on his back, but found himself still too stiff to manoeuvre to it properly.

Jacob shifted

“You want some help?”

Percival grimaced, shooting the other man a wary look. He wasn’t Grindelwald. He wasn’t one of Grindelwald’s followers. He was Queenie’s man. Queenie and Tina trusted him. He wouldn’t… wouldn’t take advantage.

“You don’t have to-”

“No, that would be helpful, thank you,” Percival forced himself to reply. 

This could be a test for himself. He couldn’t go flinching and squirming around every man he met, he had to force himself to be okay with at least touching them. Jacob would be a good start. He didn’t seem to have a malicious bone in his body, he didn’t have magic he could use against him, Queenie trusted him. Even still, he hesitated a moment longer before handing the other man the bottle.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Could you just… just my back.”

“Sure thing,” Jacob replied, shifting onto his knees and moving so he was behind Percival. Out of site.

Percival squeezed his eyes shut. It was Jacob, not Grindelwald. He was fine. He was fine. He was going to be fine.

His breath caught in his throat as he felt a hand slipping under his shirt for the second time that day, brushing over the length of his back. It was Jacob. It was Jacob. It was Jacob. It was happening- no! It was Jacob! Damnnit!

Suddenly he was pushed forward, a hand splayed in the middle of his shoulder blades, bending him over and holding him down and- Mercy Lewis it was happening again! It was happening again-!

The hand disappeared and Percival scrambled away so quickly his nails might have left scratches on the floor boards. He dragged in deep, shuddering breaths, twisting around and finding a red faced Jacob kneeling where Grindelwald should be.

“I’m sorry, I slipped,” he said apologetically, eyes wide and stunned.

Percival’s chest was heaving as the sensation of hands running all over his body returned with full force. As certain aches and pains, which he’d done a good job not thinking about, flew to the forefront of his mind. As familiar tastes filled his mouth and throat.

He gagged, pressing the back of his hand to his lips.

“Mr Grave-”

“S-Stay there. Stay away from me,” Percival uttered, scrambling back just a little more as Jacob frowned but held his hands up disarmingly.

Jacob. It was Jacob. Jacob Kowalski. No-Maj. Queenie’s man. Goldstein approved. Jacob. Just Jacob. Not Grindelwald. Not Grindelwald. Not Grindelwald.

Percival moaned wretchedly. He could feel  _ his _ hands. He could feel the desk under him. He could feel the press down between his shoulders, teeth ghosting over his neck. He could feel his… oh no, not again, please not again. Not again.

“Mr Graves! Percival, stay with me alright,” Jacob called from the other side of the room, catching Percival’s attention for a second. He looked as terrified as Percival felt. He must be making a real spectacle of himself. “You’re alright. Everything’s alright. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

To Percival’s horror he felt tears starting to well up again. Mercy Lewis he thought he was done with that.

He pressed a hand to his mouth and screwed his eyes shut.

It wasn’t him. It was all in his head. All in his head!

“Percival. Buddy. You still with me?” Jacob called, his own voice high with panic and distant to Percival's ears.

He felt them, all over him, scratching, biting hitting, rubbing him all over, no matter what he did, no matter how he moved or begged. He squeezed his legs shut, pressed his own hands over his lap, but he could still feel them-

“Graves! Look at me!”

Percival’s eyes snapped open immediately at the order, finding warm, brown ones staring back at him.

“That’s it. Now breathe in, nice and deep. Hold it. Breathe out. Good man. Again. Breathe in, hold, and out. In… and out. In…”

Percival did as he was told and breathed as he was ordered. He shut his eyes as his mind slowly stopped spinning out of control and grounded himself back in reality. The brush of hands that weren’t really there, though not gone, faded to merely disconcerting levels.

“You with me again, buddy?” Jacob uttered after a little while.

Percival, eyes still shut, nodded.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice little more than a whisper.

He could hear Jacob shaking his head.

“No! It was me! I’m so sorry. I slipped. I didn’t mean… I would never do that on purpose. And I’m sorry for… snapping at you like that. Queenie said you were a soldier and I couldn’t think of what else to do.”

Percival nodded again, his eyes still shut.

“It’s alright,” he muttered.

“That didn’t seem alright to me,” Jacob uttered.

“Would it kill you to just play along?” Percival uttered ruefully, the corner of his lip twitching when Jacob let out a soft, breathy laugh.

“Yeah, well…” he muttered, before lapsing into silence again.

Percival waited a moment, dragging in deep, steady breaths, before finally opening his eyes and pushing himself back up.

“Sorry,” he said again. “I overreacted. I… do that a lot these days.”

Jacob frowned, before shaking his head.

“Nothing to apologise for, Mr Graves,” he said, wringing his hands.

He grimaced, glancing away briefly, before turning back to Percival.

“Grindelwald… he didn’t just torture you, did he?” he asked. “He…. did more.”

Percival flinched at the question, at the reality of the situation being voiced by another person. But there was no real use denying it. Not after that. And Jacob was owed an explanation after what he’d witnessed.

So he nodded.

“Today?”

Percival hesitated a moment, then nodded again.

Jacob let out a deep breath, a dark look flashing over his usually kind face.

“That son of a bitch,” the other man growled.

Percival sighed, hunching his shoulders as he leaned against the wall once again, wrapping his arms around his chest. Oh no, more support he didn’t deserve.

Jacob swore again, before drawing in a loud breath.

Percival glanced over to him, finding the man visibly trying to calm himself down.

“Do the girls know?” he asked after a little while.

Percival hesitated for a moment, before nodding again.

Jacob blew out another breath, before nodding back. He ran a hand through his slicked back, wavy hair and, after a moment, asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Percival said, shaking his head firmly. “No I don’t.”

Jacob nodded. He didn’t look surprised.

“I’m not gonna force you,” he said. “I get you probably don’t even want to think about it.”

Percival grunted an affirmative at that, wrapping his arms tighter around himself.

“But if that changes, it’s a standing offer alright?” he said, a little less uncertainly than before. “Any time you want.”

Percival shot him an incredulous look.

“It doesn’t exactly make for nice conversation, Mr Kowalski,” he muttered.

“Which means they’re far from nice thoughts,” Jacob agreed, nodding. “Sometimes it helps to get them out of your head for a bit, and out into the open. And… you know, I’m not a wizard.”

Percival arched his brow a little at that.

“I had noticed,” he replied evenly. “Though I’ve dedicated a lot of time to creating a paper trail that suggests otherwise. So do try to keep that to yourself.”

Jacob blinked.

“Oh,” he uttered. “I didn’t think you’d actually… that’s not what I meant though. What I mean is, I don’t work with you, and I’m still new to... all of this… so I don’t really care that you’re pretty high up in the government or a top cop or something.”

“Do you not think this entire experience has been humbling enough for me?” Percival asked with a deep sigh.

Jacob grimaced, rubbing at his face.

“That’s not what I- I just mean… you don’t gotta keep up the front with me, Mr Graves,” he said. “If you wanna… get angry, or be upset, you can be. I won’t hold it against you. I won’t look at you and think that you’re not the fella I thought you were or something, or go blabbing to everyone else. Not that I think the girls ever would. But still. I don’t really know you, and I don’t expect nothing from you. So… if you want someone to talk to, someone you don’t got to watch your words or worry about your image with… my door’s always open.”

Percival watched the other man curiously for a moment. He really did seem to mean it, and so far as Percival could tell, he had nothing to gain from the offer, not even gossiping material. He was doing it out of the goodness of his heart.

A small smile tugged at his lips and he shook his head.

“You and Queenie really are a good match,” he muttered.

“Oh, um, thanks.”

He looked back up at Jacob and inclined his head.

“That’s kind of you to offer, Jacob. Thank you,” he said. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

Jacob fixed him with a rather calculating look of his own, before replying slowly, “You’ve got no intention of ever taking me up on the offer, do you?”

“Probably not,” Percival confessed, a small rueful smile spreading a little wider over his battered face. “But I do sincerely appreciate the offer all the same.”

Jacob scoffed, shaking his head again, before getting to his feet.

“You reckon you’re good to walk again, Mr Graves?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Percival shifted experimentally, it was a lot less of a trial than before.

“I may move about as fast as a turtle,” he uttered, taking the other man’s hand when it was offered and dragging himself back up to his feet. “But I’ll get there eventually.”

Jacob frowned a little at that.

“Can’t you just,” he made a aborted movement with his hands, whistling a couple of times. Percival assumed he was talking about apparating and shook his head.

“I’m not really in the state for that,” he muttered, his hand dropping unconsciously to the broken pieces of his wand, his heart clenching at the reminder.

Jacob took his answer without question though, nodding empathetically.

“Gotcha. Well, I might actually have a fix for that myself,” Jacob replied with a quick grin. “You meet me out on the curb. Take your time,” he said, before hurrying from the room.

Percival watched him go with a bemused expression, before deciding he may as well indulge the man. Sighing he took one more look around his empty bedroom, a quiet stab of grief striking him one last time. He really did miss his home.

Sighing deeply and bracing himself on the wall the entire way, he limped out of his room and made his slow, painful way down the length of his townhouse, and out the front door.

Jacob was waiting on the curb, as promised, a yellow car pulled up in front of him. The rain had stopped so at least Percival’s still damp clothes didn’t get re-soaked.

“This should do the trick I think,” Jacob said, hurrying to help him down the stairs, something that was embarrassingly necessary.

He looked over the cab.

“I haven’t got any no-maj money on me,” he muttered under his breath as the driver eyed them dubiously.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jacob said, shaking his head. “Perks of being a successful businessman in New York City, you get a bit of a disposable income.”

Percival scoffed and resolved to pay him back at the next opportunity regardless, before allowing himself to get bundled into the back of the cab. Jacob following him as soon as he was settled.

“Where to?”

“Manhattan please. 679 West 24th Street,” Jacob replied, before glancing over to Percival. “Unless you want to go to… a hospital of some sort.”

“No, the apartment is fine with me,” Percival replied, shaking his head as he settled back in the seat. He’d be made to go to the hospital eventually and it was probably easier for everyone that that didn’t involve him getting dropped off by a no-maj taxi in from of the Woolworth Building. 

Drawing in a deep breath he looked idly around the back of the cab as they set off, a mild curiosity tingling at the back of his mind. He’d not been in them often and there was no denying it, he did feel a sense of quiet interest at the various bits and pieces the no-maj’s had stuck together to get themselves around without magic.    
It also served as a fairly good distraction for the renewed anxiety that was starting to claw away at his insides at the thought of what was waiting for him at the end of their trip. It was afternoon when he’d left the hospital, and night had well and truly fallen now. He’d seen Tina a few hours ago, and she’d been worried. She could well be beside herself now. And thenthere was Queenie. Jacob had said she was worried too. He’d done that to them. And now he’d done what he needed to do, now he didn’t feel quite like he was about to split apart at the seams, a fresh wave of shame washed over him. They didn’t deserve that, not from him.

All too soon they were pulling to a stop outside the Goldstein’s building. As Jacob paid the driver Percival steeled himself for whatever was to come. He  _ was _ their boss, they couldn’t actually do anything to him. Though that sounded hollow, even inside his own head. Somehow in the past couple of weeks, Tina and Queenie had managed to become the closest thing to family he’d had in a very long time, and that just seemed to trump any professional seniority that he had over either of them.

No, if they were angry with him, if they were furious, he’d just have to bear it and apologise. He’d done them wrong, he had to confront that. Running away was what caused all of this after all.

“Coming?” Jacob asked, already out of the cab.

Percival hummed. With a lot of effort he eventually managed to ease himself out of the car as well, and, after muttering his thanks to the driver, looked warily up at the building before them.

Sighing, he wrapped an arm around his busted ribs to ease some of the ache before stepping forward.

“Let’s go,” he muttered, leading the way inside. The stairs were a nightmare, but he forced his way up them. He may have been a bit paler and sweatier than he had been on the ground, but eventually he reached the landing to Tina and Queenie’s rooms and, with the key that they’d given him, pushed the door open.

The apartment was empty.

He sighed. Great. More waiting. More anticipation.

“I’m sure they’ll be around soon,” Jacob said, patting his shoulder as he walked in, cringing at the flinch that drew from Percival. “Sorry.”

Percival shook his head as stepped inside himself, shutting the door.

“Don’t worry about it-” he muttered, before the sounding of loud, hurried footsteps coming up the stairs caught his attention.

Grimacing, he stepped back, out of the way of the door just before it swung open to reveal an absolutely wretched looking Queenie.

Guilt clawed at his insides like a rabid kneazle. She’d been crying. She  _ was _ crying. And he’d done that.

“Percival,” she breathed, eyes wide as she took in what, he expected, was the rather alarming sight that was presently him.

He grimaced and ducked his head, finding himself unable to hold her eye.

“Queenie… I…” words were failing him. God he was sorry now.

“No. No you don’t gotta be sorry, honey. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Queenie said tearfully, wiping her eyes. “I’m so sorry, sweety.”

Percival grimaced, blinking his eyes a couple of times when they started to burn once more. Mercy Lewis he was crying like a baby today.

“I didn’t mean to worry you guys,” he uttered.

Queenie let out another choked, sorrowful noise, before taking a hesitant step forward, her hands twitching restlessly at her side, clearly wanting to reach out.

“Percival, honey, can I hug you?” she asked, wiping away a couple more tears.

Percival looked up at her, blinking a couple more times.

“I’m wet,” he warned rather feebly.

“Please.”

He hesitated a moment longer before giving a small nod.

“Just… mind my ribs-”

Almost before he’d finished talking Queenie was in his arms, holding him tight, like she had no intention of ever letting go. It was nice. Really… he actually couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged him. Properly hugged him. Not held him back from crawling under a bed, like Queenie had that morning, but held him because they wanted to.

His eyes were burning again.

Biting his lip and screwing them shut he wrapped his arms carefully around her in return and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Please don’t cry,” he murmured. “I’m alright.”

Queenie shook her head.

“You’re not alright, Percival,” Queenie replied, anger leaking into her voice, though he got the distinct impression it was more on his behalf rather than directed at him personally.

Sighing heavily, he nodded, tightening his arms around her slighter form just a little more firmly, holding her close, taking the support and comfort that she offered, just for a little while.

“No, I’m not” he whispered. “But I’m still breathing.”

He drew in a deep breath and rubbed a hand once over her shoulder.

“There’s nothing you can’t get through if you’re still breathing, and I am. I’ll get through this. So please don’t cry.”

Queenie sniffled and nodded, rubbing his back only to jump when he let out a pained gasp at the contact.

“Sorry, I’m a bit banged up,” he grit out through clenched teeth.

That seemed to shake her from her tears for a bit. She pulled back a little, just enough to shoot him a reproachful look.

“I can see that. What in Morgana’s name made you leave the hospital?!” she scolded.

Percival grimaced, his mind instantly casting back to the overwhelming chaos of the hospital wing, of his own thoughts and panic and- his heart started to pound just at the memory of it.

Something was squeezing at his hands and he looked down to find them clutched in Queenies soft, dainty ones. When he looked back up at her face, the brief flash of frustration was nowhere to be seen, replace once again with concern.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she sighed, rubbing his arms soothingly. “Alright, come on, let’s get you sat down and we’ll see to thos-”

The door flung open once more, a breathless and rather wild looking Tina framed in it this time.

“I can’t find him anywh-AH!”

“Ow,” Percival groaned, pressing a hand to his throbbing temples as Tina stumbled a little further into the house.

“You- he- how- HOW LONG HAS HE-”

“Tina! His head really hurts!” Queenie scolded gently, actually going so far as to press her hands over Percival’s ears.

“Maybe it wouldn’t if he didn’t leave the hospital before getting seen to by a healer,” Tina griped, though it was pretty clear to everyone that her heart wasn’t in it.

And even still, the tight hug that followed the statement probably would have given her away regardless.

Percival winced at the pressure around his injured ribs but he beared it regardless, hugging Tina back.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, smiling a little when Tina made a slightly strangled sounding noise in response, shaking her head, which was pressed firmly against his shoulder.

He glanced over to Queenie, who was looking a bit tearful again and sighed, reaching over to pull her into the embrace as well. She hardly needed the invitation and before he knew it he had both girls in his arms. He felt warmer than he had all evening, more comfortable and secure than he had since… well. It struck him that he might have gotten on the wrong train, when he decided he wanted to go home.

“You got that right, honey,” Queenie said tearfully, wiping her eyes as both she and Tina stepped back.

“Right,” she said, taking a shaky little breath. “Right, enough crying I think. I’m going to make us some coffee and- oh. Oh Tina.”

“What-?”

The door opened again, Queenie pressed her hands to Percival’s ears again and Tina let out a shriek.

Percival cast around for a weapon immediately, before the sound of someone laughing drew his attention back.

“Oh no! Oh no oh no, Newt! I’m so sorry! I completely forgot! Oh I’m the worst host in the world!”

“It’s alright, it’s alright. We managed just fine,” a tall man with wavy ginger hair and freckled features replied, a warm, if somewhat bashful smile spread across his face.

But Percival’s attention was stolen quite quickly by the taller, broader, though equally ginger and freckled man standing behind him.

“Alright Pup?” Theseus Scamander asked, cocking his head to the side, a warm, bright (mildly concerned) smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Percival blinked a couple of times, before swallowing thickly and drawing himself up.

“Not bad,” he replied with a nod. “And you, Whiskers?”

“Better for seeing you again, my friend,” he said, stepping forward and, before anyone could stop him, pulling Percival into a strong, warm embrace.

Percival stood stock still for a moment, a long moment, taking in the sensation, breathing in the other man’s familiar scent. The arms that had held him together and gotten him through the trenches and nights where all he could hear was screaming and death, both remembered and real. The scent he’d breathed in countless times as he returned the favour.

Shutting his eyes he leaned into the embrace, his hands coming up to grip the back of the other man’s travelling coat tight.

“You couldn’t have come at a better time, Theseus.”

  
  



	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooooooo sorry that this took so long guys (though last chapter didn't end on a cliffhanger this time so at least there was that)
> 
> This chapter was a bit tricky to write because it fell smackbang in the middle of the two arcs of this story and had to connect them in a way that made it not seem like just a filler chapter XD But I'm personally pretty happy with how it turned out and really hope it was worth the wait on your parts :) 
> 
> As always, thank you so much to everyone who commented. I cannot describe how happy you guys have made me with each of your comments and how much it just encourages me to write more and faster. I also love hearing what your thoughts and feelings are in all of this. This story has a plan but it runs pretty fluid all the same. You never know, I might end up including some of it XD 
> 
> But yeah, thank you so much and I really hope you enjoy this chapter :)

Percival grunted softly, pressing the back of his hand a little firmer to his mouth, muffling any other sounds of discomfort as a finger pressed its way carefully inside of him.  
He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing steadily through his nose as he fought to keep the panic at bay.

“Sorry Director. We’re almost done,” Madame Josephine said, her voice calm, offering a steady reassurance that seemed to come naturally to the Healer types. “If anything _really_ hurts let me know.”

Percival focused on that, nodding as the woman continued probing inside of him, searching for further injuries - there had been a worrying amount of blood in his underwear after all. It was a necessary evil. But that didn’t make it any less painful. He turned his head, casting around for something else to focus on, to take his mind off what was happening beneath the crisp, white sheet tossed over his lap. The escape he was looking for came in the form of a stack of fresh clothes, folded neatly in a pile beside his bed. Just a little longer and he could put them on, and feel clean and dry, at least on the outside. It would certainly be a step up from feeling like he was being strangled by the filthy, bloody, sodden rags that clung to him like Grindylow tentacles.

“All done,” Madame Josephine replied, shaking him from his thoughts.

He let out a long, shuddering breath as he pushed himself upright, tugging his trousers back up over his hips and pulling the sheet a little tighter around his waist.

“Nothing to worry about then?” he asked, his voice shaking in a way that made the tips of his ears burn. Get a grip on yourself, Man. Honestly.

“There doesn’t seem to be, beyond the initial tears we found and bruising I expected,” she replied, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t say there’s any danger. You’ll be uncomfortable for a few days, unfortunately, but it should pass before too long.”

“It usually does,” Percival muttered, rubbing tenderly at his newly healed ribs. “Thank you for your assistance all the same, Madame Josephine.”

“You’re welcome, of course. I’m just sorry that it was needed, Director,” the woman replied, frowning a little as she looked him over. “Is there anything else that is physically troubling you. Anything we’ve missed?”

“No, I think you covered it all,” Graves replied, plastering a polite smile on his face before looking deliberately over at the stack of clean clothes. His skin was starting to crawl and if he didn’t get changed out of these clammy rags soon, he was going to start ripping them off regardless.

Fortunately the healer seemed to read his intentions quite clearly and nodded.

“Well I’ll leave you to get changed then. Take all the time you need,” she said before floating the the tray of bloodied cloth and ointments off the bedside table with a swish of her wand. “I’ll be back with some potions that should help speed the healing up and ease most of your pain.”

“Thank you,” Percival replied, nodding as he waited restlessly for her to leave, then a moment longer, just to be safe. When he found himself undisturbed after that point, he set feverishly to work.

Kicking off his sodden boots, he eased himself off the bed and set about changing as quick as he could. The panic from earlier hadn’t flared up again... yet. It was staying at the back of his mind instead, where it belonged. But even still, MACUSA wasn’t safe anymore, and he didn’t want to be caught literally with his pants down in the middle of a situation. So he wasted no time in peeling off each layer of clingy fabric and dropping it in a pile on the ground at the foot of the bed, sparing a moment to wipe himself dry with a towel that had been left at his disposal, before tugging on a clean item and moving on to the next. It took a little longer than he’d have liked. Even with his ribs healed and his cuts and bruises somewhat soothed by Jacob’s Murtlap Essence and the healers’ Dittany, he was still sore as hell.

But he managed.

Buttoning up his fresh trousers, his fingers trembling all the while, he eased himself back to sit on the edge of the bed, grimacing at the sharp pain that shot through him as he did. He squeezed his eyes shut, wrapping his arms around his chest as he tried to block out the aches and pains wracking through his body, and the slippery feeling between his legs (he honestly couldn’t tell if he was imagining it or not). He had to get a grip. There’d been enough melting down today to do him for a lifetime.

His gaze fell upon the pile of clothes at the foot of the bed. He grimaced. Ordinarily he’d at least pick them up, but just that moment he didn’t want to touch them. Ideally he’d like to burn them, but that would alarm people (and he didn’t have a wand to set them alight with, nor the energy to do so without one). He’d just have to settle for dumping them in the trash at his nearest convenience. For now though, he just wanted to enjoy being dry. Just for a little longer.

Bowing his head he dragged in a deep shuddering breath, only for it to be promptly stolen from him when the curtain’s behind his bed jostled noisily.

Twisting around (far too sharply for almost all of his injuries to be happy about) he looked over his shoulder just in time to catch them do it again.

His hand dropped to his side, where his wand ought to be, only to be reminded _again_ that it wasn’t there. Heart leaping in his throat he cast around for another weapon of some sort. A knife or pole or something. He used to always carry a pocketknife with him. When did he stop doing that?! That would have been very helpful now!

“Pst, Pup?” a familiar voice hissed. “You decent?”

Percival froze, then positively sagged with relief. Of course, it was just Theseus.

Dragging in another deep breath, he forced himself to sit up a bit straighter, lift his head a bit higher - before humming.

“Well, one of us has to be.”

“Cheeky,” Theseus snickered as he slipped past the curtain, a mug of coffee in each hand. “They’re probably gonna try and ply you with all sorts of nonsense, so I decided to fetch you some actual medicine in the meantime.”

Percival smiled warmly at that and nodded, accepting his mug from the other man with perhaps a bit more reverence than was strictly necessarily.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he said with feeling.

“That’s what they tell me,” Theseus drawled, winking as he pulled a flask from the pocket of his coat and tipping a shot into his own drink, before looking over to Percival and lifting his brow in question.

“Please,” he murmured, holding out his mug to the other man. Once the flask was considerably lighter than it had been a moment earlier, Percival pulled back, cradling the warmth in both hands and holding it to his chest. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the strong aroma of coffee beans and whiskey, savouring it, before taking a sip and feeling the warmth slowly start to seep back into him.

“Hell of a day,” Theseus murmured over the rim of his mug.

Percival hummed quietly, taking another sip before echoing, “Hell of a day.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a little while, sipping at their coffees and listening to the bustle of the hospital going on around them.

“I asked around, while you were getting looked over,” Theseus said after a little while, looking up from the depths of his coffee to meet Percival’s eye. “There doesn't seem to have been any fatalities on your side. Four lads got sent off for some more intensive care, but from what I gathered from the aurors I talked to, and the nurses I listened in on, they’re probably gonna pull through. There’s a girl from Chicago office who might lose a foot, but they’ve got prosthetics for everything these days,” he said, shrugging. “Fair few more fatalities on their side of things. Your guy, Malik, is overseeing the transfer of their bodies to wherever you lot keep them. A handful got captured, but if you’re luck is anything like ours, you’ll probably not get anything out of them. Grindelwald seems to like picking the dumb ones and keeping them dumb. The rest scarpered when you and the President got snatched. All in all, a bit of a circus but one you can recover from easily enough.”

Percival hummed at that, frowning down into his coffee as he let the facts of the situation sink in. No fatalities on their side. That was a miracle if ever there was one. He almost couldn’t believe it. All the same, a knot that he hadn’t even noticed twisting in his gut began to loosen at the news.

He breathed out, nodding again.

“I was expecting far worse,” he quietly confessed, shaking his head. “You should have seen it in here earlier. It was like a field hospital.”

Theseus hummed grimly, nodding.

“I’ve seen what the man alone is capable of doing to a team of aurors,” he replied, a dark shadow passing over his rugged face. “I can only imagine what he’s capable of with his rabid fan club at his back.”

Percival hummed, then frowned as the shadow lingered. He’d known Theseus was heading up the British effort to curb Grindelwald’s rise, but it occurred to him that, even before he’d been taken, it had been a long time since he had properly checked in on the man himself. For a while now, though still friendly, the focus of their correspondence had shifted to work, hunches and suggestions rather than personal enquiry. Casting his mind back now, he couldn’t recall when the change had occurred.

Theseus looked up at him, and the shadow passed, replaced by a quick quirk of his lips that looked more like a grimace than the grin that it was intended to be.

Percival clasped his shoulder all the same.

Smiling a little more warmly, a little more genuinely, Theseus reached over to patted his hand, before pushing on as steadfastly as before.

“Looking in from the outside, you took every possible measure to guard the ceremony from ambush and you completely succeeded in guarding the civilians from harm. They’ve all been accounted for, statements taken and sent on their way. There’s every chance that this would have ended in mass slaughter if anyone less attentive was put in charge. Any criticism that may come from this will be ill-informed and fear-mongering in nature, likely from the press, and so not worth your time or concern,” he concluded, nodding firmly.

Percival smiled a little at that and inclined his head.

“I’ll certainly try to keep that in mind,” he replied, before taking a sip from his coffee, which was beginning to cool. “You managed to pick up a lot in 20 minutes.”

Theseus’ wide shoulders heaved as he shrugged, leaning back against the bed until he was propped up on his elbow, looking quite at home.

“You can pick up a whole lot when you listen to the right people and ask the right questions,” he replied with a little flutter of his fingers. “I expected that it was all stuff that you’d like to know.”

“It is,” Percival replied, nodding. “Thank you. Though there are a few more things.”

An amused grin slowly spread across the other man’s face.

“Let me guess. What am I doing here?”

“The question does beg to be asked,” Percival drawled, before raising a placating hand. “As happy as I am to see you again, of course.”

“Nice save,” Theseus chuckled. “Well, that’s a surprisingly complicated question. Would you like the official or unofficial answer first?”

Percival arched his brow, a small flash of amusement shooting through him.

“Let’s begin traditionally, with the official excuse.”

“Ah, good man,” Theseus chuckled, sitting back up and rubbing his hands together, his coffee cup empty and propped up beside him. “Well, _officially,_ my dear little brother Newton recently published his book. And it was his utmost desire to celebrate this accomplishment by jumping on a ship to New York and whisking away one of the first prints to the girl he’s sweet on. He was really quite insistent on it. And, well, _after last time_ the minister very nearly jumped at my offer to accompany him on this little voyage to ensure he’s kept more or less out of trouble and our special relationship with the MACUSA remains just as dented and bruised as ever, and no more.”

Percival smiled and nodded along, thoroughly unconvinced but convinced that the people that mattered would be.

“I see,” he drawled. “And the _real_ reason.”

“To help you, of course,” Theseus replied, his mischievous grin warming a bit. “I’d have come sooner, _much_ sooner, but we’ve been kept busy trying to curb the bastard over our end. Even though the cat’s away, his mice are having a jolly good time all the same. And on top of that, my intentions would have been obvious and a trip over any time soon would have been thoroughly vetoed.”

Percival arched his brow, before grimacing in sympathy and nodding his understanding.

“Ah. They’ve politicised all of this over there too,” he sighed.

“International cooperation goes right out the window when there are points to be scored. The minister would never allow the Head of the British Auror’s Office to assist MACUSA without a quid pro quo in place. And those always end up in bureaucratic squabbles,” Theseus snorted, rolling his eyes. “Your bloody President didn’t help matters in that regard, with her jab at Eberstadt over Christmas.”

A second later he seemed to realise what he’d just said and flinched, glancing guiltily over at Percival before looking away again.

“Of course, you weren’t there for that, were you?” he muttered.

Percival grimaced an acknowledgment, choosing to re-button the cuffs of his shirt rather than attempting eye contact.

He shrugged.

“Let’s not have that conversation,” he said.

He could practically hear the frown in Theseus’ voice.

“You deserve an apology,” he said solemnly.

Percival sighed, turning to face his friend, who was looking all the world like a man waiting for a punch to the face.

“I failed you,” he said. “I apologise. Unreservedly. And if you want to… I don’t know, give me a hiding for being such an _unforgivably dense arse_ ,” he bowed his head, fists clenched on top of his thighs. “If you wanted to do that, here and now, I won’t raise a hand to stop you.”

“I could give you a hiding whether you raise your hands or not,” Percival replied, the corner of his lips twitching at the attempt at humour, before falling soon enough. He sighed and shook his head. “You have better reasons for that than most,” he said plainly, knowing the other man wouldn’t appreciate being mollycoddled. “It makes no difference. What’s done is done. I’m not going to beat you for it. What good would that do?”

Theseus paused a moment, his shoulders sagging a fraction, before humming. He picked up his cup, running his finger restlessly around its rim. Fidgeting his discomfort away, like always.

“I did want to come earlier,” he muttered, his eyes flicking from the cup to Percival and back. “Honestly. And what I said about the ministry, that’s true. But… I can’t deny that I feared to face you as well. To have you look at me with betrayal, or disappointment. And… writing seemed like such a cop out, so I dawdled on that to. I’ve been a horrid friend to you.”

He grit his teeth, looking up again and meeting Percival’s eye resolutely. “It was selfish of me, all of it, and I am sorry. For that, and for failing to... if I’d known-”

“ _If you’d known_ , in all likelihood, you’d have led the charge and either been killed in the attempt or ended up joining me. I’d wish that on nobody, least of all you, Whiskers,” he muttered, bumping his knee gently against Theseus’. “I accept your apology. Now come on. Don’t be a sap.”

Theseus choked out a scoff at that. Percival busied himself putting their empty cups on the bedside table as the other man scrubbed roughly at his face. They had always been quite similar in a lot of ways and he doubted Theseus would appreciate his moment of vulnerability being witnessed any more than he himself would.

“You can talk,” Theseus eventually shot back, shaking his head roughly as he blinked the moisture from his eyes away. “Fainting away like that. Like a victorian lady in a corset.”

Percival scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yes yes. I did apologise,” he said.

Theseus shrugged.

“No worries,” he replied, leaning back once more with a not entirely fake grin. “With a face like mine, you get used to people swooning a bit around you.”

Percival rolling his eyes.

“Modest as always,” he drawled

“Naturally,” Theseus replied with a wide grin, before looking around the little curtained off area. His smile fell a little when he spotted the pile of damp clothes Percival had left on the floor, his bloodied underwear far more prominent than he would have liked them to be. Percival cursed himself for not just putting them away when he’d noticed them before.

Theseus frowned, glancing from it to Percival and back. Percival could see the pieces slotting together in the other man’s head and sighed heavily.

“Pup,” he uttered, trailing off, clearly unsure what to say.

Percival grimaced and shook his head.

“It’s what you think - but I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied, rubbing tiredly at his face. “Not right now. Please, Theseus.”

He sighed deeply and leaned back.

“I’m sure you’ll pick up the general gist of it all if you talk to some more people.”

Theseus frowned deeper at that.

“People know?” he asked, surprised.

“It’s more or less general knowledge at this point,” Percival replied, a lingering bitterness seeping into his voice. “The damn healer couldn’t keep his mouth shut when it happened the night Grindelwald escaped.”

Theseus eyes widened, and Percival realised a bit too late that he likely assumed it had just happened the once. He stamped down the frustration that welled up at letting that one slip. He’d have found out eventually.

“W-well,” he cleared his throat loudly, before pressing on. “It’s just speculation then. Hearsay. I’m sure-”

“I told my team,” Percival said, cutting him off. “There were already doubts about my competence as Director. And there still are about where my loyalties truly lie.”

Theseus let out a disgusted hissing noise at the insinuation, which made Percival smile a little.

He sighed, feeling very tired as he recalled the ordeal that met him his first morning back.

“One of my senior aurors attempted a mutiny. Called for a vote to have me ousted.”

“Please tell me you took him up on it there and then,” Theseus uttered.

Percival smirked.

“It wasn’t a complete whitewash, but it wiped the smug grin off his face and got his arse out of my department,” he replied with a shrug. “All the same… I had no choice. I had to be up front about it. Show of transparency and… well.”

Theseus grimaced and nodded slowly.

“Where facts are absent, fiction fills in the gaps.”

“Exactly,” Percival replied, nodding. “My department was in tatters. Their leader was kidnapped and failed to escape capture for a year. They followed the directions of one of the darkest wizards of our time without realising who it was or even what had happened. They’ve been publicly humiliated for that in the press. And then their director is found beaten and violently hysterical in his own home the night Grindelwald slipped through our fingers. They were at each other’s throats and splitting off into clans. If I didn’t come clean, show a little bit of regard for them as my team, I’m not sure we’d have pulled through as well as we have so far. We could well have two dead aurors on our consciences, instead of the one. Possibly more actually, if we went into today’s skirmish divided like we had been.”

He sighed, shutting his eyes.

“I had no choice,” he muttered.

He started when a large hand gripped his shoulder, and looked over at Theseus. He looked grim. But at the same time, there wasn’t a trace of the disapproval or pity that Percival realised he’d been dreading to see.

“You did the right thing,” the other man said, without a shade of a doubt. “And your team respect you for it, Percival. Believe me. I don’t know what sons of bitches around here are claiming that your loyalty is questionable, and you can bet your arse if I come across _anyone_ coming out with that rubbish I’ll hex them so badly they’ll beg me to curse them,” he grit out, before dragging in a deep breath and carrying more calmly, “But your team certainly aren’t one of them. I was there when Tina was telling them that you were alright. All of them were genuinely relieved. They all respect the hell out of you, don’t doubt that.”

Percival smiled a little at that, ducking his head as he drew in a deep breath of his own.

“Thank goodness for small mercies,” he muttered, though there was no denying, he _was_ genuinely warmed by the insight.

Sighing he shook his head roughly, and immediately regretted doing so when sharp spikes of pain shot through it as soon as he did.

“What’s wrong?” Theseus asked as Percival let out a groan, pressing the heel of his palm to his eye. “Do you need a healer?”

“No, I just need to not move my head,” Percival scoffed, breathing out shakily as the pain slowly faded back to its dull throbbing of earlier. “Don’t ever let yourself get cruciatused point blank in the skull, Whiskers. It’s not pleasant.”

Theseus eyes widened considerably at that, before narrowing into slits.

“That fucking animal needs putting down,” he growled.

“Well, let’s see what we can do about that,” Percival murmured, bumping his knee against the other man’s before sitting up straighter. “So, I’ve _unofficially_ got Britain’s finest at my back then?”

“Just like old days,” Theseus replied firmly, nudging Percival’s knee back. “And I’ve not come empty handed either, mate.”

“Oh?”

Theseus winked conspiratorially before, before both of their attention snapped to a jostling at the curtains.

“Director Graves, I have your potions,” Madame Josephine called.

Percival pushed off the bed with a wince, pulling the curtains open to reveal the woman with a small box of vials in her hands. She shot Theseus a bemused glance, before turning her attention properly back to him.

“Thank you Madame Josephine,” he replied, nodding gratefully as he took the vials and set them down on the bedside table. “I’ll just grab my things and be out of your hair.”

“You do that. And then go straight to bed and get some rest. You’ll only prolong the healing process if you work yourself into the ground throughout.”

“No need to worry, Ma’am. I’ll see to it the Director is tucked in by bedtime,” Theseus said with a wide grin.

Josephine glanced skeptically between the two of them, before humming.

“See to it that you do,” she replied, before turning back to Percival. “Don’t hesitate to visit if any of your injuries start to trouble you, Director. Otherwise, have a good night.”

“Thank you, Madam Josephine,” Percival muttered, before limping over to gather the wet, dirty clothes on the floor. He grimaced and quickly set about folding them up a little neater.

“Your shoes are still wet, Pup,” Theseus pointed out, frowning as he kneeled down to help fold everything.

Percival sighed.

“If I dried them myself I think I might pass out again,” he confessed.

Theseus frowned.

“You’re that wiped out?” he asked. “It’s just a little spell.”

“I’d be doing it wandlessly.”

“Why?” Theseus asked, frowning deeper. “Where’s your wand?”

“In pieces back at the Goldstein’s,” Percival sighed, shaking his head (carefully). “Grindelwald went and broke it over his damn knee.”

“He what?!” Theseus cried.

Percival scoffed, though there was a certain degree of bitterness about it.

“You’d think that someone who has such a high opinion of magic would hold a little more respect for the tool that channels it,” he muttered.

“He snapped it?” Theseus uttered.

“In front of me. _Gleefully_ ,” Percival sniffed, before turning back to his soiled clothes. He didn’t even want to touch them.

“...Bastard,” Theseus hissed.

“Bastard,” Percival echoed solemnly, before sighing. “But, what’s done is done.”

“I guess,” Theseus muttered, before sighing himself. “We’ll get you a new one in the morning. First light. Or we can get a portkey and fetch you one from Ollivanders in an hour or two. Get you a nice proper wand from your homeland.”

“Mercy Lewis not this again. For the thousandth time, you can’t just wish someone English, Theseus.”

“I refute your argument entirely,” Theseus replied imperiously as he kneeled down to dry out Percival’s boots for him.

“The closest I will give you is Irish and even that’s a generation away.”

“I’ll take it!” Theseus said, jumping back up and putting the dried shoes on the bed. “My little leprech-”

“Do not call me a leprechaun,” Percival sniffed, taking a moment to slip them back on before gathering his things and turning to the other man. “Are you staying with the Goldsteins too?”

“That was the plan, but I wasn’t aware that you were as well.”

Percival grimaced, his mind casting back to the state his own home was in, and the thought that everything he’d gathered over the years were in boxes somewhere in this building.

He sighed.

“My apartment is under investigation. They’re trying to work out how Grindelwald slipped past my wards. Of course he slipped past the Goldsteins wards as well… somehow. It seems nowhere is safe,” he said.

“It _seems_ that way,” Theseus replied calmly, slipping on his coat before catching Percival’s eye. His blue ones were burning with a determination Percival felt had been snuffed out for a while in him. “Until we figure it out. Knowledge is power.”

“We have the best warlocks in MACUSA looking into it,” Percival pointed out.

Theseus grinned.

“A little healthy competition never hurt anybody,” he drawled, before pausing. “Well, no, that’s not true. But you take my point.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Let’s track down your protege and get back,” Theseus said with a warm smile. “I probably should attempt to fulfil my official duties in this trip you know.”

Percival scoffed softly and picked up his pile of belongings as Theseus took the lead, chatting away all the while.

“Mother blames me, but I think if the both of us have ended up like this it’s far more of an ‘apple and the tree’ situation rather than a ‘for goodness sake stop leading your little brother astray’ one. Don’t you think? Of course, she never listens-”

“Graves.”

Both Percival and Theseus paused at the doors of the hospital and turned to face the curtained off bed standing by it. The bed with three burly aurors standing outside of it.

Percival grimaced, glancing over to Theseus who nodded and took his stuff from him. “I’ll go track down Ms Goldstein,” he said, before wandering off.

Percival drew in a deep breath before walking over to the bed, trying to limp as little as possible past the aurors, before slipping inside.  
He felt the brush of a protective ward as he did so and felt a little of the tension inside him ease. He could rest a little easier knowing that they were taking appropriate precautions.

“Madame President,” he said, shifting so he was standing as close to attention as his bruised and battered body would allow.

Picquery waved her hand at the display before summoning a chair with a flick of her wand.

“Please tell me that wasn’t Theseus Scamander I heard out there,” she said, lifting a skeptical brow as Percival eased himself into the chair.

He scoffed softly and nodded.

“He’s accompanied his brother for a trip over,” he said.

Picquerry grimaced mightily.

“It’s an invasion,” she uttered so solemnly Percival couldn’t quite hold back another small laugh.

Shaking her head and waving her hand, like she were physically batting the topic away, she turned back to face him. The lightness of the moment promptly gave way to a familiar degree of graveness.

“Your aurors have been worried about you,” she said.

Percival grimaced, once again feeling ashamed for his earlier weakness.

“I know,” he sighed. “I… needed to remove myself from the situation. It wasn’t my intention to spark an ordeal.”

“I know that, Percival.”

He blinked at the use of his first name, before sighing and leaning back a little more heavily in the seat.

“I’m sorry for hitting you so hard before,” he said apologetically. “I was trying to reign it in, but after the cruciatus-”

“I don’t blame you in the slightest,” Picquery insisted, frowning. “Did you think I would?”

Percival thought about it for a moment, before inclining his head.

“Perhaps not,” he said. “But it’s still a matter worthy of apology. I’ve not… you’re not going to suffer any permanent injury from this, are you?”

“I shouldn’t think so,” Seraphina replied, shaking her head. “And you?”

Percival shrugged.

“I’ll live to fight another day,” he replied. “I’ll just be a bit achy for a few of those days initially.”

Picquery hummed, a small smile pulling at her lips, before falling.

“Percival,” she uttered, frowning as she clearly started to choose her words carefully. “What he did-”

Percival grimaced and shook his head, a spike of panic shooting through him.

“Is done,” he said quickly. “Madame President, please, medical leave won’t undo it. I’m physically fit, for desk duty at the very least. And in a few days for full duties. My department cannot be down their director again. Not after this. They can’t. I understand if you have concerns. I understand that I behaved unprofessionally by going AWOL earlier and I will co-operate with any checks or measures or discipline that you insist upon. But I really cannot stress enough how disastrous it will be for my team, the investigation and _me_ if I end up locked in a room going over this for another damn week.”

He swallowed thickly, his fists clenched on his thighs before gritting out.

“I categorically refuse. You’ll have to fire me.”

“I’m not going to fire you,” Picquery replied calmly, before pushing herself up to sit a bit more upright. “But I’ve recently been given an insight into the suffering that you’ve endured at the hands of that monster, and presumably the foul creatures who follow him. I imagined it to be _heinous,_ but after today…” she shook her head, grimacing in a way that made Percival’s stomach clench. Grindelwald had been right after all. Sparing her the sight hadn’t spared her the trauma.

An apology was on the tip of his tongue when her dark brown eyes caught his once again, the familiar resolve burning in them silencing him.

“I just want you to know, as invaluable as you are - if you wanted to leave all of this, if you wanted to just stop and live the rest of your life in peace, I would never think less of you for it.”

Percival blinked, completely taken aback by the offer.

“You… you want me to resign?” he uttered.

“I want to know if _you_ want to resign,” Seraphina replied. “I’ve noticed for awhile now, the toll that all of this has taken on you. I’d never expect you to be the same man after what happened last year, but I realise I’ve never not expected you to press on all the same. It never occurred to me that you wouldn’t. For as long as we’ve known each other…” she trailed off, frowning a moment before shaking her head. “But after today, both with what happened with Grindelwald and how the situation was handled by Vice President Cline _,_ and even how I’ve handled this in the past… I have to ask if you want this life anymore. Because if you don’t, I implore you, _give it up_ and go find your peace in whatever way you can. I do not want you dying for a cause if it’s one you simply feel obliged to stick to.”

A heavy silence fell.

Percival's initial reaction, his instinctual one, was to insist that he wanted to keep on doing his duty. The duty his family had done for generations. It was expected of him. He was a soldier, a fighter, a Graves. He was born to do this and it was ludicrous to suggest otherwise.

But then he paused, and thought about it.

He’d never actually ever considered just walking away. Not properly. Theseus and he had joked, so many years ago with shells flying overhead, about the quiet lives they could lead. He’d spun tales of becoming a teacher of something or other, in a nice cosy school. Whiling away his days grading papers, wearing jumpers and sipping coffee, maybe writing a book and owning a cat or two.

But now this proposition had been put to him, the joke seemed suddenly, _terrifyingly_ possible.

It would be a complete wiping of his slate. He could start fresh, somewhere else and just leave all the stress and fear and shame and hurt that had piled on more and more as the years had gone by in this role. There’d be no more politics, no more gossip, no more attacks on his abilities or his person. No more 24 hour binges on paperwork or dealing with the scum of the earth on a daily basis.

He was already the weak link. Why not break on his terms rather than those of outside forces.

He could have his own life. A quiet life. It could all just stop.

….But it wouldn’t, would it? Grindelwald would still be out there. The scum of the earth would still be out there, and his people would still be raging against them. They’d still bleed and die fighting the good fight, doing the right thing. He'd read their obituaries in the paper, one after the other, while he hid away and pretended that it wasn’t his fight any longer. It wasn’t his problem. That their blood wasn't on his hands.

Perhaps he had earned it. Perhaps after everything that had happened he did deserve to just take the rest of his life and live it for himself. But he couldn’t. At least not right now. Not when Grindelwald was out there. Not when he could do to other people what he’d done to him. He’d never be able to live with that. 

With a newfound determination, the one that he’d seen burning earlier in Theseus, and Seraphina just before, Percival looked back up and met his President’s eye.

“I don’t run from fights, Seraphina,” he said firmly.

A warm smile slowly spread across Picquery’s face at that.

“No. You never have.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez guys, I'm soooooo sorry for the huge delay between chapters. I both got caught up with RL stuff and distracted by other projects. But here's the next chapter. As always I hope you like it and thank you soooooooooo much to everyone who shared their thoughts and feelings on the last chapter. You guys all really just encourage me to keep on writing as well as absolutely making my day!! Just thanks so much. 
> 
> Also, it's been brought to my attention (though I'm not surprised in the slightest) that notifications for this story are unreliable at best. So if any of you want to make sure you don't miss a chapter as they come up, my tumblr is: qed221b.tumblr.com and I always post their when I update (as well as chapter previews and a heap of Graves/Fantastic Beasts art) so if you want to pop over there and keep an eye out. 
> 
> Otherwise, just once again thank you so much. You're all the best and I hope you like this chapter :D

“Newt, Pup. Pup, Newt,” Theseus announced almost the second Percival stepped out of the fireplace, pushing his little brother forward so firmly his tea sloshed about in its cup. 

Percival arched his brow. He couldn’t help but be amused by the other man’s eagerness to make the introduction. But then, perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. Newton Scamander had been the apple of his brother’s eye for as long as Percival had known Theseus. The other man swelled with pride at the mere mention of his youngest kin.

Shaking his head he stepped forward and offered his hand to Scamander the Younger, shaking it firmly. 

“Percival Graves,” he amended. “ _ He’s _ the only one that calls me  _ Pup _ .”

“There are far worse pet names, believe me,” Newt replied with a wry, if somewhat bashful grin. “But it is a pleasure to finally meet you properly, Mr Graves. I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you.”

“Your brother embellishes.”

“Not just from my brother,” Newt replied, his eyes flicking up to meet Percival’s for a moment before slipping back down to a point on his jaw instead.

Percival quirked a brow and glanced over to Queenie, who was innocently sipping away at her tea, and Jacob who seemed suddenly  _ incredibly _ focused on selecting a biscuit from the plate between them.

“I see,” he drawled, before stepping back, folding his arms over his chest. “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you all the same. Your brother’s been boasting about you for as long as I’ve known him.”

Newt’s cheeks promptly went a bright shade of pink at the comment.

“Yes, well, he embellishes.”

Percival smiled politely as Theseus laughed loudly and began to regale them all with the tale of that time Newt’s dragon squadron almost burned  _ their _ squadron to a crisp during the war. Percival took his chance to slip away while Newt insisted upon the beast’s innocence in the matter. 

“She had hiccups!” he cried. 

Sending a quick thought over to Queenie, lest they start worrying he’d done another runner, he stepped out of the room and limped down the hall to the bathroom. 

Sighing, he bolted the door behind him, resting his forehead against the wood. Mercy Lewis he was tired. He was bloody exhausted and if he managed to get  _ any _ sleep tonight it would be a miracle. 

He paused for a moment, drawing in deep, steadying breaths, before pushing off the door and methodically stripping off his clothes. With each layer that came away, more panic-born scenario’s sprung to mind. What if Grindelwald came into the house right now? How long would it take him to re-dress and help the others? How long would it take  _ him _ to incapacitate the others and get in here? The bathroom wasn’t warded. What was the point of locking the door when an ‘alohomora’ would be more than enough to suffic-?

He whacked himself sharply across the head, his vision going white for a second or two immediately afterwards. Right. Cruciatus to the head. Bad idea. But it did the trick. For the moment his mind stopped racing just a little bit. 

Blinking a couple of times until the spots more or less left his vision he quickly finished undressing and got into the shower. He couldn’t control that. If Grindelwald came or not, if  _ anyone _ came or not, he couldn’t control that, but at the very least he could make himself a little bit cleaner. That was something. He’d not allow himself to be reduced to cowering in his own filth, too scared to undress long enough to bathe or change for pity sake! No, Grindelwald was not having that!

Still, he did feel a lot better once he was out and clothed again. 

Sighing deeply he looked at himself in the mirror, meeting his own eye and holding it. He looked tired, and bruises, though faded thanks to healer’s potions and ointments, littered his face. But he was alive. He was alive and all of his people survived today. He was alive and no civilians died on their watch. He was alive and Grindelwald left MACUSA without what he had truly been looking for. He was alive and he had more time to make the son of a bitch regret that. 

He lifted his chin a fraction, narrowing his eyes defiantly. 

“You’re still here,” he said, voice low, but determined. 

Nodding he pushed off the counter and made his way out of the bathroom and back down the hall. 

“Ah, there you are,” crowed Theseus, hopping to his feet from where he’d been lounging on the carpet, like the overgrown housecat Percival had always considered him to be. 

“Well I’m sorry all, but I made a promise to a rather fearsome looking healer that this one would go straight to bed once we get back,” the other man said, waving a hand at Percival, and entirely ignoring his indignation at both being referred to as ‘ _ this one _ ’, and being put to bed like an unruly child. “I should probably get onto that before he keels over again.”

“I’m not going to keel over,” he sniffed. 

“ _ Again _ .”

“I’m. Fine,” he grit out, but Theseus had that look on his face. The look that said he was going to be unnecessarily stubborn about the matter, and he, Percival, would either have to fight him on it or just let it go. And Percival didn’t quite have the energy to fight about something like this. So, with a put-upon sigh he bid the other’s goodnight, assured Jacob he’d reimburse him the taxi fare, and followed the other man out of the room.

When they reached the bedroom, Theseus paused a moment. He shot a fleeting look over his shoulder, drawing a frown from Percival, before stepping inside and making his way over to the bed. The cause for his hesitation was immediately obvious. The pillow and blanket from the night before were still on the ground.

After his little episode that morning, and preoccupied as he’d been, going over the arrangements for the ceremony, Percival had not even thought to put them back where they belonged. As a result he’d inadvertently painted a clear picture of his post-captivity sleeping habits for the whole world to see.

Grimacing, he looked over at Theseus. The other man was bouncing experimentally on the edge of the other bed, restless as ever. But before too long his attention turned back to him.

Percival looked away, embarrassed by… well, everything that the other man had learned about him in the past few hours. Theseus had known him in his prime. Seeing him now, broken in body and too weak-willed to so much as bring himself to sleep in a bed, like a normal person would… Mercy Lewis, he must pale in comparison. 

“Don’t be like that,’ said Theseus, a soft firmness in his tone. “It took me almost a bloody year to get used to beds again, after it was all over. The trenches…” he scoffed and shook his head, smiling grimly. A dark look passed over his face. Percival frowned. He could see an echo of his own frustration, the anger at his inability to adjust back to everyday life. His own body seemingly intent on tethering him to the past, even as he desperately clawed his way from it.

A knot in his gut loosened a little, even if the shame of it still bubbled away. It wasn’t just him then.

“You gotta do what you’ve gotta do to get through, Pup,” Theseus said quietly, eyes flicking up to meet his for a moment. Then, with a shrug, he set about fussing with his suitcase instead. “Kipping on the floor isn’t hurting anyone, is it?”

Percival paused a moment, before humming quietly, the corners of his lips twitching a fraction as he limped further insider the room and sat down on the bare bed.

“My back might disagree with you,” he said, smiling a little wider as Theseus let out a bark of laughter at that. 

“Old man,” he teased. 

“You can talk.”

“Eh, I was all for living fast and dying young in a blaze of glory. You’re the one who refused to let it happen,” laughed Theseus, leaning forward and resting his arms on his legs, before jabbing a finger in Percival’s direction. “Now look at us. Old and greying, and in government positions. How did it come to this?”

“I really don’t know,” uttered Percival, rubbing tiredly at his sore eyes. 

“Get some sleep, Pup,” Theseus said quietly, setting his things aside. “I’ll take first watch.”

Percival froze. Blinking he looked up and over at the other man, momentarily stunned and not entirely sure why. 

“... _ First watch _ ?” he uttered. 

Theseus nodded, pulling a book from his suitcase and scooting up the bed until he was leaning back against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles. 

“I’ve had more than enough sleep for the next day or so, I’d say. And there’s two of us now. Well, three. But this is Miss Goldstein’s house, she shouldn’t have to lose sleep as well as host the lot of us. I can stay up and keep an eye on the place while you’re resting up. You said that the twat got in here too?”

Percival swallowed thickly and nodded, clearing his throat before saying out loud, “He did.”

Theseus nodded. 

“Well there you are then,” he said. “You get some rest tonight. I’ll take your watch for a little bit and keep an eye out. And then we’ll get up first thing, fetch you a wand, and set about figuring out how we’ll kick Grindelwald’s arse with it.”

Percival’s lips twitched a little more, going over it all in his head a couple of times. Theseus was taking watch. The house was being watched. Everything in him was rebelling at the thought, because it would surely lead to disaster, but he felt… safer. Just a little. It’s not that he felt Tina couldn’t handle a situation (though his not  _ wanting _ her to,  _ ever _ , may well play a part), but there had been this sense of ‘rolling the dice’ every time he shut his eyes. Every time he was off his guard. He didn’t know what he would wake up to, and his mind had always delighted in crafting possibilities where the unknown dwelled. A wand to his head or a cock up his… well, in the grand scheme of things, those were best case scenarios - staying with the Goldsteins, at least. Far worse things could happen here. Far, far worse things.

“My brother’s here as well, Pup. And he’s done enough to put himself in the bastard’s sights,” Theseus said grimly. “ _ I know _ .”

And when Percival looked over at him, he believed him. 

Letting out a deep breath he nodded. 

“Alright,” he said. “That… sounds good to me. Tomorrow, when I have a wand, we’ll swap out.”

“We can  _ talk _ about taking shifts tomorrow,” Theseus countered stubbornly. “For now though, mate, you take your potions and get some rest,” he said, a warm smile spreading over his face. “I mean you’re so old now-”

“Oh be quiet,” Percival scoffed softly, once again feeling a little lighter from having another burden he’d not been aware of lifted. Even while most of him was waiting for the other shoe to drop, another knot of tension inside him eased. It was still there, but it wasn’t as bad as before. 

Nodding, he rubbed roughly at his face a couple of times, before sitting up properly and setting about pulling off his waistcoat and shirt. He’d leave the trousers. If something happened he needed to be up and ready to help. He wouldn’t want to do that in pyjamas. They were loose enough, he’d rest fine.

So with a soft sigh he stripped down, took his potions for the night, before finally, after a moment of hesitation, shifting down to the ground instead of the bed. 

Theseus, for his part, didn’t look up from his book but to wish him goodnight and flick off the lights, reading by the glow of the tip of his wand. 

Percival settled on his back, folding his arms behind his head and tried to drift off. But his mind was racing. Going over the events of that morning. Trying to figure out, blow by blow, how it happened? Were there things he missed? Were there clues? Were there close calls? How close were they to disaster? How could he have got the civilians out quicker? Should he have sent Picquery away in spite of his misgivings? If Grindelwald was determined to use her for access to the office then he probably had contingencies in place. She could have apparated into a trap. No, keeping her there was the best option in a bad situation. He probably should have stuck closer though. It was just luck that he managed to reach them in time (and even still, what did that achieve. Well, he tortured him instead of her, that had to be better). They should set up fresh safehouses though. New contingency plans too. Should he look into her guard? They were all dealt with really quickly? Perhaps. But he shouldn’t be too harsh. They’d managed to keep her from harm in the face of an army of combatants, and held up well enough fresh against Grindelwald on the roof. Review but don’t condemn. They shouldn’t have had the ceremony out there in the open in the first place! But that wasn’t up to him. He mustn’t let this get buried to avoid embarrassment though. The people who insisted on a full ceremony up in a vulnerable position needed to remember this. It’s not a matter of defiance in the face of oppression, it’s about  _ not _ inviting danger in when it’s already knocking! It’s a damn miracle that nobody on their side was dead they couldn’t just count on that! What had Grindelwald been looking for anyway? This whole exercise hadn’t solely been to mess with  _ his _ head, that was just an added bonus. He was  _ looking _ for something. That could be what he’s up to. But what? A weapon? Information? What would be in the President’s office. Well no, what could be but  _ wasn’t _ in the president's office. It had to be information. He had to talk to Picquery. This could be their lead into what he was-

“I can  _ hear _ you thinking, Percival,” drawled Theseus, from the bed, glancing over the top of his book and shooting Percival a bemused look. 

Percival sighed, wincing as the lights flicked on again. 

“There’s a lot to go over,” he muttered, holding up a hand to silence the other man before he could speak, “I know it will be more productive to go over it with a clear mind but I can’t stop it all from spinning about in my head. There’s so much we don’t know. So much that could be in the works. It’s like we’re walking blind.”

Theseus shot him a decidedly fond smile before flicking open his case, digging through it.

“You need to sleep,” he said, before pulling out a battered paperback from the depths of his possessions and tossing it to him. “Here.”

Percival quirked his brow as he turned it over to read the cover, huffing another laugh once he did. 

_ “It’s a capital mistake to theorise before one has data,” _ drawled Theseus as Percival flicked through the water, mud and blood specked pages of the other man’s copy of  _ The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes _ .

“Is this your unsubtle way of telling me to educate myself?” he drawled. 

Theseus shrugged. 

“It’s my unsubtle attempt at distracting you,” he chuckled, a quick grin spreading across his face a second later. “Though, imagine if we figured out Grindelwald’s game using the methods of a fictional muggle detective.”

“Oh he’d not like that,” chuckled Percival, before drawing in a deep breath and tipping his head back against the pillow. “Thank you, Whiskers,” he muttered. 

“Haven’t done anything yet, Pup,” said Theseus with a small smile, winking, before turning back to his book. 

Percival smiled and shook his head, rolling over onto his side before flipping through the pages and settling on a story he vaguely remembered being one of his favourites. He was asleep before Holmes’ client had finished sharing their problem with the great detective.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Percival woke with a start, the familiar sensation of hands running over his skin, under his clothes, prying and touching and rubbing in places that made chills run down his spine assaulted him relentlessly. He dragged in a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut tight again. It was a dream. He was in the Goldsteins’ apartment. He was fine. He was  _ fine _ . Slowly, the sensation started to fade, until it was nothing but an unsettling memory once more. And all without tears this time, which had to count for something.

He jumped violently when someone cleared their throat to his right. Eyes snapping open he twisted around in that direction, hand flying under his pillow where his wand ought to be, only to be reminded in rapid succession that he was unarmed and it was Theseus sharing the room with him. 

He sagged back down to the carpet as the other man (having determined his chance of being stunned to be at the normal  _ moderate _ rate, rather than  _ imminent _ ) marked his place in his book. 

“You look a bit better rested,” he commented. 

Percival hummed, eyes still shut. 

“A little bit,” he sighed. “Sorry.”

“No need. I’d be immensely concerned if there were no reaction actually,” Theseus replied airily, hopping off the bed and stretching. “Nice to see your reactions are as sharp as ever.”

Percival scoffed before slowly pushing himself upright. 

“Quiet night?” he asked. 

“Mostly, yes,” said Theseus. “Couple of drunk fellas came down the road around 2 singing ‘Forever Blowing Bubbles’  _ badly _ . Some cats duked it out around four-ish. I think I blinded an owl who took a rest on the fire escape - don’t tell Newt. But other than that, nothing but me and Shakespeare.”

Percival nodded, rubbing at his face a couple of times before easing himself up. He was still hurting in various ways but it wasn’t so bad now, far better than before. 

“I’m just going to go take a slash and get changed and we can head off,” said Theseus, grabbing some clothes from his case. 

Percival yawned and nodded. 

“Sounds good.”

“Here,” the other man said, offering his wand to Percival, who blinked down at it. “If anything’s going to happen it’s more likely gonna be here than in the lavatory. Keep a hold of it,” he said, nodding to him before slipping out of the room and bidding a hasty path to the bathroom to relieve himself.

The corner of Percival’s lip quirked a fraction at that. Shaking his head fondly he twisted the other man’s wand in between his fingers, giving it a quick little flick and smiling when a couple of sparks lazily left the tip of it. 

“Hello again,” he murmured, before placing it down on top of the chest of draws and setting about pulling out fresh clothes for the day. Sighing deeply he changed as quick as he could, ears sharp for noise from the door and eyes on the window all the while until he was doing up the last buttons of his waistcoat. 

He was dreading today. 

An auror having to replace their wand was far from unheard of. But at the same time… a backfired spell or damage inflicted under duel conditions was entirely different matter to another wizard snapping it in front of them. 

It was going to be humiliating. He was going to have to go back to the same store he got his first wand from, the store he’d gone to with his father as a boy, and ask the same man for another. He sighed softly and looked over at the broken pieces lying on the bare bed to his left. And he’d be replacing  _ his _ wand. There really was a profound (if entirely baseless) sense of disloyalty about that. 

He looked over his shoulder as Theseus walked back in the room, humming merrily away with coffee in hand. 

“So, where too?” he asked, handing Percival his mug. 

“Jonkers I suppose,” he sighed, taking a sip. “It’s the closest. And where I got my…  _ first _ wand from.”

“You don’t sound like you want to go there though,” Theseus pointed out. 

Percival shrugged, before pausing, then rolling his eyes. “We’re not getting a portkey back to England-”

“Yes yes, I know. You’re insisting on being difficult about that,” sighed Theseus, holding up a hand. “But surely you’ve got to have more than the one wandmaker over here in the colonies,” he said. 

“There’s nothing wrong with Jonkers. I just… there’s a degree of embarrassment going back to the same wandmaker twice,” he said, sighing deeply. He was being a coward. Plain and simple.

“Well then let’s go somewhere else,” Theseus replied, like it was just as simple as that. He  took his wand back, slipping it into his hold before fetching both his coat and a spare for Percival. “Take your potions.”

Percival paused at the door, before sighing and walking back to his little collection of potions on the dresser, knocking back a dose from a couple of the vials before leading the way back down the hall. 

“I’m not going to run across the country just because I’m a bit embarrassed, Whiskers,” he sighed. “That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not running across the country, it’s looking at your options,” replied Theseus, shaking his head. “Look, this is clearly uncomfortable for you. I’m not saying that it should be, but it obviously is. And this Jonkers bloke is where you got your first wand. I don’t reckon America and Britain are so different that that’s not a huge deal here too,” he said. 

Percival grimaced, turning to look out the window instead, because he wasn’t wrong. 

“Don’t taint that memory if you don’t have to just because you don’t want to  _ run away _ ,” Theseus said with a shrug. “There are other wandmakers, yes?”

Percival hesitated a moment longer. It  _ did _ still feel like running away, just as surely as this whole situation felt treacherous by nature. He was being ridiculous! 

“Pup?”

He sighed and nodded.

“A few,” he said, finishing off his coffee. “We’re going to have to go to MACUSA to floo if we do go down that route. I’m not up to leading a cross-country side-along.”

“What you going cross-country for?” Tina asked with a frown as they walked into the kitchen. She and Newt were already up and sitting at the table, enjoying a quiet morning tea together.

Percival shrugged as he washed up both his and Theseus’ mugs. 

“I’m in the market for a wand, thanks to Grindelwald,” he replied, shrugging. “Though there is Jonkers here in the city. I should really just go to him,” he muttered.

He could  _ hear _ Theseus rolling his eyes behind him.

“But he’s so…” Tina trailed off for a moment, openly thinking of an accurate descriptor for the wandmaker and his rather infamous temper, before settling for pulling a suitably menacing face. 

“I’m not scared of Johannes Jonker,” scoffed Percival, shaking his head. 

“I might be now,” Newt mused, smiling when Tina beamed and nodded triumphantly. 

Percival watched the display with amusement, before sighing and pulling on Theseus’ spare coat, his own no doubt still trampled into the mud in upstate New York, another in a box of evidence in the curse breakers department. He’d be needing a fresh wardrobe before all of this was over and done.

“Well come on, let’s get this over with,” he sighed, nodding to Theseus who pushed off the counter. 

“Just a thought, if you were thinking of branching out at all,” Newt piped up as they past. “There’s a wandmaker in Arizona that I’ve collaborated with recently. Shikoba Wolfe. I’ve been corresponding with her frequently, since she agreed to keep an eye on Frank for me. Letting me know how he’s settling in and such.”

Percival arched his brow at that, nodding along before leaning over to Theseus and whispering, “Frank?”

“His thunderbird.”

“Oh. From the reports?”

“I imagine so.”

“I did include him,” Tina insisted.

“You didn’t mention that his name was  _ Frank _ .”

“Everyone’s always so appalled by that,” Newt muttered despairingly, taking another sip of his tea. “He  _ looked _ like a Frank.”

“Presumably he looked like a Thunderbird. What deformity did the poor thing suffer from to make it _ look like a Frank _ .”

“You’re talking to the same man that named a fully-grown Ironbelly War Dragon  _ Betty _ , Pup. Pick your battles,” drawled Theseus, grinning when Newt promptly retorted ‘She looked like a Betty.’ 

“ _ Frank _ is positively butch.”

“Anyway,” Newt said with the air of a man who saw himself as thrust into the position of being the voice of reason, “I’d highly recommend Madame Wolfe’s wands. Thunderbird cores have to be near perfect for an auror I would think, and she deals exclusively with them.”

Percival quirked a brow at that, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, they maintain some abilities of the creatures themselves,” Newt said, emboldened now they were on a subject of which he was knowledgeable. “Namely the capacity to sense and warn their partners of danger, and act independently when threatened. I’ve heard numerous tales of thunderbird wands shooting down the witches or wizards that had just disarmed their partners.”

Percival hummed. There was no denying, after watching his own wand being snapped in front of him, a replacement that had a chance of defending itself from a similar fate did hold some appeal. 

On top of that, he had actually heard of Shikoba Wolfe’s wands before. They were more of a West Coast staple, but they were renowned for being immensely powerful.

He ran a hand through his hair. He supposed it was as good a place as any to start, even if it was a bit of a jump to get there. Jonkers wasn’t going anywhere. He could come back. He slipped his hand into the pocket of Theseus’ coat, gripping the broken fragments of his wand. This wasn’t ever going to be a perfect or pleasant experience, but he might as well try and get a decent replacement out of it. 

He nodded. 

“Thank you for the recommendation, Mr Scamander,” he said. “I guess we can try Madam Wolfe’s shop first.”

Newt smiled and nodded. 

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed,” he said, nodding, before shooting him a knowing look. “I know getting a new wand isn’t pleasant, Mr Graves. But try and keep an open mind. Try not to think of it as a desertion of your first match, more a personal evolution,” he said with a small, though slightly sad smile. 

Percival frowned a little. Of course, he’d had heard of the expulsion ordeal from Theseus. But he found himself caught off-guard by this common ordeal he seemed to share with the younger man. 

He nodded. 

“Thank you for your insight, Newt,” he said, offering a quick smile before turning to Theseus. “MACUSA?”

“MACUSA.”

 

* * *

 

“I still think we should have gone to Ollivanders-”

“Would you just stop?” Percival sighed as they stepped inside the shop Newt had directed them to. It was taller than he’d expected from its outside appearance, and as cluttered as he remembered Jonkers to be, though with infinitely better lighting. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows that lined the front of the shop and from the bright blue sky of the bewitched roof. The corner of his lips twitched a little at that. It had been a while since he’d had the chance to be properly out in the open and appreciate it. 

“Interesting,” said a rasping voice from somewhere to his left. 

Both he and Theseus turned sharply, finding a tiny, ancient looking witch perched on an artist's stool - a whittling knife in one hand, and a stick of cypress in the other. 

“Madame Wolfe,” replied Percival, nodding politely at the woman, who lifted a bushy brow and hummed. 

“Director,” she replied. “Am I under arrest?”

Percival quirked a brow in turn, folding his arms over his chest. It wasn’t an uncommon followup question of his presence. 

“Should you be?” he asked. 

“Not that I’m aware,” the old witch replied calmly, observing him unblinkingly for a moment, before clicking her tongue and nodding. “Oh, I see,” she said. “Let me see it.”

“It’s still not too late-”

“Shut up,” Percival grit out before producing the broken pieces of his wand and handing them over to the woman, grimacing as she took them away. 

She clicked her tongue a few times, twisting the base half of the wand between nimble fingers, before looking at him. 

“An interesting match,” she said. “A fitting one,  _ once _ , I’m sure. But not so much anymore.”

Percival tried not to wince at the comment, forcing himself not to look away all the while. He’d always been proud of his wand. Wampus hair set in a Ebony wood. A warrior’s wand. Whether it was intended as such or not, to have an expert tell him that that no longer fit him, it was a bit of a kick in the gut. He was suddenly all the more glad they didn’t go to Jonker. It would have been worse coming from the same man who’d given him the original. 

Wolfe was watching him still, nodding along, like he were speaking his thoughts outloud. 

“No, certainly not,” she said, before hopping off her stool and, after depositing her knife and the stick of raw wandwood on the desk in the centre of the room, set about nimbly climbing up the shelves that towered a few stories above them. Percival twitched slightly when Theseus’ patted his shoulder before moving to sit down on one of the puffy, leather sofas squeezed by the window. 

He remained where he was, sighing softly. 

Getting one’s wand as a child was a magical experience, even for those who grew up surrounded by the stuff, like he had. It was the final confirmation. For children like Percival, who had had a bit of a penchant for hoping for the best but whole-heartedly expecting the worse, it had been one of the biggest milestones of his life. His father had taken the day off work to get it with him. He and his mother had gone to pick up all of his books and get fitted for robes, which was a separate memory he cherished. But his wand, his father had taken off a day from work, one of a the few times Percival  _ ever _ recalled him doing so, and taken him out for that. He’d been so proud too. The man who was renowned for his seriousness, his solemn frown, had beamed at him in such open pride, Percival didn’t think he’d ever feel so overjoyed as he had in that moment. 

This wasn’t anything like that. 

Some things were the same though. Occasionally a measuring tape would swoop down upon him from above, measuring his height, the circumference of his index finger, the width of his ear.  _ That _ was the same. The nonsensical data. It had bewildered him as a child and it continued to evade him how such information played into the whole process. 

“Birth month?” Madame Wolfe called from somewhere above them. 

“March.”

He could hear her pause, then hum. “Perhaps not,” she said, and the sound of her boots clopping about resumed. After about 10 minutes she came clambering back down to the ground level, half a dozen boxes under her arm. 

“I’ll be surprised if it’s not one of these,” she said as she laid them out on the desk, before opening the first. 

“Fir, 13 inches,” she said, handing it over. “A contemporary of mine likes to refer as Fir wands as  _ Survivor’s wands _ .”

“Does he?” sighed Percival, taking the proffered wand from the woman. He didn’t feel like a survivor exactly. Though it was a nice thought. Still, he found it felt dead in his hand the second he touched it. He gave it a flick regardless, but nothing. 

“It was a long shot,” Wolfe replied with a shrug as she took it back. 

The corner of Percival’s lips twitched when Theseus gave an indignant sniff behind him. 

“Try this one,” she said, handing him a thick, rough (rather ugly) looking wand instead. “Red Oak, 12 inches. A duelist’s wand.”

Percival arched his brow a little at that and took it. There was a little spark, but it didn’t feel right. More like he was using someone else’s wand. 

Wolfe seemed to agree, as she took it from him a second later. 

“No, I don’t think so. How about this. Cedar, 19 inches.”

_ “Merlins beard.” _

“Shut up, Whiskers,” Percival sighed as he took the wand (which  _ was _ about the size of his tibia) only to have it nearly blow itself from his hand the second he so much as twitched it. 

Wolfe hummed. 

“That thunderbird was a tad temperamental,” she said, shaking her head as she retrieved it. “Pity though. It would have made a powerful match. Nevermind. What’s next?” she hummed before picking up another box and pausing. It was about as long as his original wand had been, a dark brown wood with a squared off handle and etchings running liberally from the hilt before tapering off towards the tip. A far cry from the sleek, jet black of  _ his _ wand. She nodded to herself all the same and presented the wand to him once again, this time without the description. 

Percival shot her a fleeting glance and took it. It wasn’t quite the burst of warmth that he remembered as child, nor did gold sparks pour like a fountain from the tip of it as he gave it a flick, but Percival knew just as surely as he had as a child, this was the one. He didn’t feel overjoyed. In spite of Newt’s warning, he felt like he was betraying his real wand, broken or not. 

“I did have a good feeling about that one,” Wolfe said, cutting through his bitter thoughts as she pushed the other boxes aside. “English Oak, 15 inches. Surprisingly flexible with the tail feather of a singularly remarkable thunderbird. And yet, it has always felt, to me, to be incomplete.”

“It feels fine,” said Percival, though… she did have a point. He gave the wand another flick and, yes, it performed as expected, but he could feel untapped potential there, just out of reach. He grimaced. It was a perfect match after all. A defective wand for a defective wizard. He chastised himself for the thought, he was trying to be more positive after all, or at least, less self-pitying. But still… really?

He sighed. Well it would do the job he supposed. 

“If I may?” she said, gesturing for the wand, which Percival handed over after a moment of hesitation. She put it down then turned to  _ his _ wand, tapping her lip as she surveyed each half before taking the tip’s end, then her knife, and, before Percival could do anything to stop her, chopping it in half again. 

Percival stared, a choked noise ripping itself from him as she went on to cut one of those pieces in half once more, seemingly unaware of the almost physical pain that she was causing her patron. 

It was dead. It was broken and there was no fixing it, this was just sentiment at work… but Mercy Lewis, surely watching his wand being butchered twice in as many days was a tall ask of anyone. 

He watched as she took the bits of his wand she’d cut away and set about smashing it to pieces with a silver mallet, drawing a flinch from Percival with each crack. The crushed pieces were then swept into a mortar and pestle where they were pulverised all the more. 

He looked helplessly over to Theseus who’d risen from his spot on the sofa and drew closer, looking just as alarmed as he felt. 

“Excuse me,” she said, taking the mortar, his new wand, and the hilt of his broken wand along with her before bustling into a back room of the shop. 

Percival stared at the door she’d stepped through before rounding on Theseus. 

“Who the hell has your brother sent us to?” he hissed. 

Theseus blinked, poking at the hacked up remains of his wand at the desk until Percival slapped his hand away. 

“I’m sure it’s all standard practi-”

A bright light burst from the backroom, drawing both of their attention for a second, before snapping to glare accusingly at one another. 

“ _ I _ said go to Ollivanders.”

“ _ I _ said go to Jonkers,” Percival hissed back. “But no, we listened to  _ your _ brother and now I’ve got less wand than I arrived with!”

Theseus opened his mouth to retort, only to snap it shut again when Madame Wolfe walked out from the backroom and over to the desk again and handed the wand back to Graves. 

“Try this, I think you will find it feels a bit more natural now,” she said. 

Percival eyed it and her distrustfully. The engravings that had run along the surface of the wands seemed to have been packed with a black substance and a familiar silver band wrapped around the base of the hilt, where the wood transitioned from squared off to rounded. With a pang of grief he realised that it was the remnants of his old wand, frankensteined and stuck to its replacement.

“What did you-”

“Please, Director,” Wolfe replied, nodding pointedly to the wand she was holding out to him. 

Percival sighed and took it from her, blinking with surprise once he did. It felt different now. 

Frowning, he shot her a rather skeptical glance, before giving it a quick swish and a familiar surge of magic began to flow in just the right way, how it always had done, but different somehow. It was more direct. More controlled. A neat jet of bright gold sparks streamed from the end of the wand, a little more concentrated and orderly than when he was a child, but the same. The corner of his lip twitched at that, a weight on his chest lifting a fraction. It was almost like he had  _ his _ wand back. This wand felt like  _ his _ one, in different ways. Old and new. 

Wolfe hummed and nodded, her eyes closed. 

“Yes, that worked a lot better,” she said. “It seems this wand was waiting for you and your past to complete it. I do love to see destiny in motion.”

Percival wasn’t sure about what part destiny was playing in all of this, but the wand really was something afterall. He could feel his earlier,  _ considerable _ misgivings falling away as he cast a few more spells, each trickier than that last. Once the familiar form of his patronus had trotted a couple of laps around him he was satisfied that it would do him just fine. 

“It’s perfect,” he uttered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Madame Wolfe replied with an amused smile. “See, Messers Jonkers and Ollivander are not the be all and end all of wandmakers after all,” she drawled.

Percival smiled a little at that (and elbowed Theseus in the side when he made moves to debate the topic, of which he had nothing but patriotism to lean upon). 

“No, certainly not,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. I’m sorry.”

Wolfe waved a hand, picking up her branch of cypress and whittling knife from earlier and moving back to her stool. 

“People handle second wands differently, director,” she replied. “Your loyalty does you credit. And it was shared. Even broken in half, your ebony wand held in there long enough for some of it to be utilised in specimen taking over its watch. And it doubtless played a role in winning the allegiance of the English Oak.”

She nodded thoughtfully.

“You have power and courage, that’s clear to see. But the English Oak does not hand itself over to those it cannot rely. You’ve got quite a unique partner in your hands, Director Graves. 15 Inches, English oak, infused with Ebony. Thunderbird tail feather core with a hint of wampus fur. Surprisingly flexible and immensely powerful.”

She smiled and patted his arm. 

“ _ A Leader’s Wand. _ ”


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sooooooo sorry for how long this chapter took guys. Seriously it just didn't want to be written! 
> 
> Thank you so much for the patience and for everyone who left a comment. You guys seriously keep me going so just thank you so much!!

“Pup, you’re putting me in a position that you know I don’t like to be in.”

“Oh please,” Percival scoffed, rolling his eyes as he lead the way down the halls of MACUSA and through to the MID department. 

Theseus, as was his way, persisted in being stubborn. 

“You know how I hate to cluck,” he said. 

“As much as a Mother-Hen,” Percival retorted. 

Theseus sighed heavily behind him. 

“You’re hilarious,” he drawled. “Percival, be reasonable. You were beaten to a bloody pulp yesterday.”

“And I’ve been knitted back together and plied with potion since then,” Percival retorted with a shrug. “The only thing left to do is wait for what’s left to heal up on its own, and I can do that while working.”

Theseus caught him by the arm just as they approached the stairs that lead down to the MID bullpen. A year ago, there wouldn’t have been a problem. But this was not a year ago, regardless of whatever improvements he’d made. Before he could stop himself, before he could think, Percival had flinched sharply and twisted away from the other man, his heart in his throat. 

Theseus just as quickly realised what he’d done and jumped back himself, eyes wide and horrified. 

In an instant Percival found his panic, and the optimism that had been coursing through him before, give way to frustration.

He hastily turned to stare out the window, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers and letting out a shaking breath. It was  _ Theseus _ . He was  _ fine _ for pity sake! Stop. Being. An Idiot!

“Sorry,” Theseus uttered solemnly, and Percival could hear him shifting on the spot. 

He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Don’t be,” he said, tipping his head back and dragging in a deep breath. “You didn’t do anything. I just… react oddly to things.  _ For _ now. It’ll get better.”

He shot the other man a sharp look. 

“Don’t you go pussy-footing around me, Whiskers. I don’t need that.  _ Not from you _ .”

Theseus pursed his lips slightly, a conflicted expression on his face. But soon enough he heaved a deep sigh and turned to face him once again. 

“Understood,” he said, nodding sharply. 

The corner of Percival’s lips twitched as he nodded back, before taking a step towards the other man. 

“Theseus, I understand the concern. If it were the other way around, I’d feel the same. But the fact remains that every second we’re not acting, is a second that we’ve handed to Grindelwald. And I am  _ done _ with doing that bastard favours.”

He squeezed the other man’s shoulder. “Going over the information we have isn’t going to prolong my recovery any more than reading in bed would.  _ You know this _ .”

He shot the other man a small smile. 

“Come on. I need my Watson.”

Theseus kept his silence for a moment, stubborn as ever, before sighing, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“How many times do I have to tell you.  _ You’re _ Watson.”

Percival grinned, slapping the other man’s shoulder fondly before leading the rest of the way to the set of stairs, only to pause again once they reached them. 

A distant buzz of activity was drifting up from the bullpen below, and that definitely shouldn’t have been the case. It was Sunday. Although Percival’s department, unlike the majority of MACUSA, was very much a 24/7 kind of affair, he’d always made a conscious effort to avoid keeping people from their families more than necessary. Particularly over the weekend. The only people that ought to be on duty were those out on patrol, and one or two people in each necessary department, simply to keep an eye on things and be ready to call reinforcements in if a situation came up.    
For the MID, it would ordinarily have been him, enjoying the peace and quiet of the office (it was far more pleasant than sitting alone in his apartment had been - back when that was an option). If not that, then whoever had done something worthy of punishment during the week or had drawn the short straw (or been bribed into taking said shift by the aforementioned straw-puller). 

Regardless, the sheer number of papers being shuffled and shoes clicking against stone suggested that there were far more people than there should be down there. Either they were being audited for some reason, or something was afoot. 

Shooting Theseus a quick glance as his hand fell to his wand, he carefully lead the way down. 

Out of all the perilous scenarios that had sprung to his mind - finding his team all working hard at their desks was both the tamest and least expected of them all. 

“Pup!” Theseus gasped dramatically, effectively catching the attention of the whole room. “I know we’re in the middle of a situation, but 7 day work weeks? You slavedriver you- _ oof _ !”

“Boss,” Malik greeted (a tad sheepishly). “We didn’t think you’d be in today.”

“That makes two of us,” Percival replied, his brows rising as he looked around at them all. “I know I didn’t roster you all on for the whole weekend. What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Tina said, stepping forward for the group. “We were just thinking… there’s a lot to be done. With Grindelwald and all… and... we just figured that we should all get a head- ...hang on.  _ What are  _ you _ doing here _ ?”

“Busted,” Theseus drawled, stepping quickly back out of range of the elbow Percival swung in his direction. 

“ _ You _ weren’t rostered on for this weekend either,” she pointed out, the others all nodding or humming empathetically. 

Percival sniffed. 

“I’m the director. I don’t need to be rostered on to come into the office,” he replied with as much authority as he could muster. “Or provide explanations as to why I might do so.”

“Ah, so you’re just as bad as the rest of us then,” she scoffed, entirely unaffected. 

In fact, _ nobody _ seemed to be affected by his pulling of rank. When had this happened?! He used to command respect and now they were disregarding him entirely!

He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get a word out he was cut across by the new arrival of Queenie and Newt, both bearing trays of tea and coffee. 

“Drinks everybody,” Queenie called, not looking in the least bit surprised to find him there. In fact as she passed he found a cup of coffee, in his mug and made to his liking being pressed into his hands. 

“How did the wand hunt go?” Newt asked with an amicable smile as he passed a cup to Theseus as well. He shrugged at their bemused expressions. “Queenie figured you’d be back in the office by now.”

Percival scoffed and nodded. 

“Aptly, it seems,” he said, before shooting the younger man a quick smile. “It went well. You were right, it feels a bit more like an evolution than a replacement.”

He shot the younger man a quick smile and inclined his head. 

“Thank you for your recommendation. I’m not sure I’d have gotten as good a result elsewhere.”

“Ollivanders would have found you something,” Theseus muttered into his tea. 

“Really, Thees?” Newt sighed, shaking his head despairingly (Percival found himself liking the kid more) before turning his attention back to him. “I’m glad it worked out, Mr Graves. Truly.”

Percival smiled and nodded back, taking another sip from his coffee as Newt retreated to hand out his beverages as well.

“Who’s this anyway?” Simpson asked, nodding pointedly over to Theseus, who swivelled around mid-sip to see who was addressing him. The rest of the room quickly turned their attention to him as well.

Sighing deeply, Percival waved between him and the others. 

“Whiskers, meet my team - or at least those whom you haven’t met already while you were weaseling information out of them. Everybody, meet Theseus Scamander - the British Ministry’s Director of Security. And Mr Scamander’s brother,” he said, nodding over to Newt who was spoon feeding a purple snake (with wings?) tea. 

“Morgana’s Tits,” Chambers uttered, rising to his feet as Simpson stumbled over his own chair. “Theseus Scamander? The war hero?” 

“How tall tales have shaped your legacy,” Percival drawled as he plucked the file that was hanging from the junior aurors slack fingers and flicked through it. 

Theseus let out a loud bark of laughter at that.

“Bitterness doesn’t suit you, Pup,” he drawled, before turning back to the rest of the room. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Your boss has spoken incredibly highly of the lot of you.”

The corner of Percival’s lips twitched as both Chambers and Simpson puffed up quite impressively at the praise, not quite as experienced as everyone else to hide their pride. 

“The pleasure’s ours, Director Scamander,” said Malik, stepping forward to speak for the group, before turning back to Percival, a confused frown on his face. “Are we working in coordination with the Ministry now, Boss?” 

“No,” Percival replied, shaking his head. “Which brings up a very good point. Director Scamander here is officially vacationing in New York with his brother, nothing more. Under no circumstances is he to be connected in the slightest way to any ongoing investigation into Gellert Grindelwald, any of his followers, or any matter that may be connected to either.”

Simpson and Chambers deflated the most, but the disappointment across the team was palpable regardless. 

Percival exchanged an amused smile with Theseus before continuing. 

“Of course  _ unofficially _ , there’ll be no getting rid of him,” he said, snapping the file closed. “So treat him as part of the team. However, outside of this office, he’s just a tourist that spends an inordinate amount of time pestering his old war buddy.”

He turned to Theseus. 

“Anyone who knows you will believe that,” he drawled. 

Theseus scoffed (as did Newt).

“Alright, I’m confused,” Tina sighed, brushing hair from her face. “So he  _ is _ helping.”

“Yes,” Theseus said, nodding. “Essentially, for MACUSA and the Ministry to work in coordination in this, agreements need to be drawn up outlying certain responsibilities and benefits. Pencil pushers will inevitably spend weeks arguing over details, claiming the treaty benefits or disadvantages one side more than the other. Meanwhile our window to potentially put down Grindelwald will close before ink meets parchment.”

“Let us all take a moment to appreciate the vital role politics plays in keeping people safe,” said Percival sagely. 

Theseus smirked slightly at that, before shaking his head. 

“The fact remains that Gellert Grindelwald and everything he stands for is a danger to us all. I’m here to join your fight and will help you in every way I possibly can for as long as I can.”

“Please, don’t look so pleased about it,” Percival drawled as he wandered over to the main desk in the centre of the room. “His ego is big enough as it is.”

“We can’t all be as noble as you, Pup,” Theseus scoffed as he followed him over. 

_ “Wait - Who’s Pup?” _

_ “Mr Graves I think?” _

_ “Pup?” _

_ “They’ve been like that all night.” _

_ “I think it’s sweet.” _

_ “Of course you do, Queenie.” _

“Anyway,” Percival called, looking over his shoulder at the bunch of gossiping aurors. “Let’s see what you’ve all been up to this morning?”

“Well, we interrogated the low-life’s we managed to nab yesterday,” Cruz said as she and the others hastily gathered around.

“For all the good it did,” Tina sighed deeply. 

“Ah, more of the same then,” Percival said, shaking his head. “I suppose we weren’t expecting anything different. Simpson, get on writing up warrants for a veritaserum questioning session with each of them regardless.”

“Way ahead of you, Boss,” Simpson said with a grin. 

Percival smiled. 

“You’re all on the ball today. Excellent work. Finish them off and send them out. We should make sure we leave no stone unturned. Even if we’re probably not going to get anything useful,” he sighed.

“It’s not just you lot. We’ve found the same back home,” Theseus replied. “There doesn’t seem to be an _ inner circle _ with Grindelwald like most  _ revolutionaries  _ have. The only one who really knows what he’s up to is him.”

“But… we interrogated him when we had him. Veritaserum, legilimens, everything,” Tina pointed out. “He didn’t mention any of…  _ this _ .”

“Which suggests that whatever his objective is  _ now _ , it’s not something he had in mind before his escape,” Percival replied. 

Chambers perked up. 

“So, this is all spur of the moment?” he asked. “Surely that means he’ll be more likely to slip up.”

Simpson nodded enthusiastically. 

“And once he does - we’ll snap him up like that,” he said with a click of his fingers. 

Percival smiled apologetically. 

“He’s had weeks to go over the particulars. Psychotic though he may be, the man’s a genius. It’s not spur of the moment  _ anymore _ ,” he replied, shaking his head. “Sorry.”

“That’s good news though,” Theseus pointed out when the younger mens’ faces fell. “If he has a plan, that means all we have to do is figure out what that plan is, and we can head him off. It gives us direction too. If he was just shooting from the hip at whatever took his fancy, there’s  _ very _ little that we can do besides damage control.”

The others all nodded slowly, thinking about it some more. 

“But… we’ve got no idea what his plan is,” Tina uttered. 

“We’ve got a bit of an idea,” Percival replied, straightening the papers in the file before him. “He’s looking for something.”

“Looking for something?” Tina echoed, and when Percival looked up all eyes were on him. 

He hummed, nodding. 

“That’s what he was doing yesterday,” he replied. “Why he targeted Picquery. So he could side-along with her through the wards and get into the President’s office in an effort to retrieve something from it.”

“Is that why he attacked then?” Cruz said, frowning. “To steal something. Not to…  _ instill terror  _ or try and do as much damage as possible?”

“He didn’t actually do all that much damage really. When you think about it,” Percival pointed out. “Scared everybody, yes. But we could have sustained far more casualties if that were his aim. At the very least he could have very easily killed Picquery and I, which would have done far more to  _ instill terror  _ and  _ do as much damage as possible _ than what he  _ did _ do. No, I think yesterday was all a bit of a smoke screen.”

“But why didn’t he? Kill you both I mean?” Chambers asked with a frown, ducking when Tina and Malik both moved to clip him around the ear for the question. “Hey! I’m just saying - I mean, look at this! Mr Graves is giving us some direction here, all because he let them live. And if we’re talking smoke screens and bluffs and stuff, people woulda never thought to look for stuff that’s been filched if the President and Director got assassinated. So why not do that when he got the chance and carry on with his plan?”

Percival smiled proudly, leaning back in his seat. 

“That’s a really good observation, Chambers,” he said, inclining his head. “I can’t be sure. But my theory is that he  _ does _ have a plan. And he’s based that plan on the situation as it is now. Of the inside knowledge he managed to pick up about MACUSA and the people that run it during the year he’d swindled his way in here.”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“To kill the president and I would be akin to him throwing wildcards into a deck he’s already stacked in his favour. There’s no telling who the new president would be, what government they would run, or how well they would run it. Who they would keep and who they would replace as department heads, what their priorities would be. You take my point? I expect the only reason the president and I are alive is because it suits his ends better than the risk of the unknown.”

“But why does he keep coming after you?” Tina asked, frowning as she and the others all considered his theory. 

Percival shrugged. 

“He could be trying to keep me off my game,,” he said, shrugging. 

Theseus nodded. 

“Smart plan really. The maintaining the advantage of a familiar opponent while removing some of their teeth,” he mused, before smirking. “He’s underestimated you though.”

Percival scoffed softly, shaking his head.

“He’s operating on outdated information,” he replied, shrugging. “It’s just a theory, of course. But it’s the best one I’ve got as to why I’m still alive in spite of all these opportunities he’s had to fix that. Beyond ‘ _ he’s just sick like that’ _ , which is always an option.”

“It makes sense,” Tina replied, the others nodding their agreement with thoughtful frowns and hums. “Still, we shouldn’t rely on that. We need to press the warlocks to find out how he keeps getting by the wards.”

Percival nodded. 

“Absolutely,” he replied. “I’ll see to that myself after we’re done here.”

Tina nodded back. The room fell silent. 

“So… something in the President’s office?” Newt prompted, cocking his head to the side in interest. 

Percival sighed and shook his head. 

“Unless it’s ridiculously well hidden, no,” he replied. “He managed to do a pretty thorough search and seemed to leave empty handed. That said, is the President still in the hospital wing?”

“No, she was sent home earlier this morning,” Simpson replied. 

“Under strict orders to stay there until at least tomorrow,” Chambers replied, an amused grin on his narrow face. “We were visiting Wilson - he’s getting let out soon! Anway, Madame Josephine’s a scary lady.”

Simpson nodded empathetically beside him. 

Percival hummed, logging that information away. 

“Well that serves our purpose. The office has already been locked up I presume?”

“Yes sir,” Malik replied, nodding. 

“Good. We’ll need to the whole place swept and checked for anything that may be missing. Or anything that’s there which shouldn’t be.”

“But you said that he left empty handed,” Simpson said in a confused voice.

“I’m fairly sure he did. But there are a few minutes that I can’t entirely account for where he could have found something.”

“Like… there’s a blank period?” Simpson asked, frowning. “Because if Grindelwald got in your head and erased something, that needs looking into. You  _ might _ have seen something after all.”

Percival let out a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. 

“It’s not that. I got crucio-ed point-blank to the skull and couldn’t see or hear anything for a minute or two,” he said, pressing on through the round of gasps and breaths sucked through teeth. “President Picquery ought to be able to account for the time I was not fully conscious. But even then, there were instances where we couldn’t watch his every move, and we were busy trying to turn the tables on him. So just to be sure that there’s not anything that both of us missed, a complete audit of the office should be conducted.”

“What about the warlocks, Boss? Shouldn’t they do a sweep too?” Malik asked. 

“Yes, probably for the best. At the very least the wards were all torn down by Vice-President Cline,” he rolled his eyes at the pulling of faces (and the actual hiss of disapproval Chambers gave) at the mention of the man. “They ought to oversee their replacement is carried out correctly. And while we’re on the point of the Vice-President-  _ Chambers, _ if you hiss again I’m sending you to get neutered.”

“Boss!”

“On the topic of the Vice President, we are  _ not _ declaring war on the him or his office, no matter how angry you all are with the man.”

He twisted around to look at Theseus, who was twirling his wand idly between his fingers. “That includes you.”

“ _ Moi?” _

“Don’t ‘ _ moi’ _ me,” Percival sighed. 

“He’d deserve it if we did,” Simpson sniffed, the others nodding. 

“That’s beside the point.”

“So you agree?” Tina interjected. 

“Come on, Boss. After the crap he pulled yesterday. Surely you gotta be a bit mad at him.”

“My feelings on the matter don’t change the fact that acting out some form of petty revenge will be nothing more than a distraction, and any distraction to us is an advantage for Grindelwald.”

A silence fell across the room. None of them looked happy about it, but he could see that they took his point regardless.

Theseus hummed thoughtfully. 

“I reckon I can stick his arse cheeks together without getting too distracted-ow!”

“So, no messing about with the VP or his office,” Percival said as Theseus rubbed his head, ignoring the snickering at the other man’s comment. “We’re professionals. We have a serious matter at hand. Playground nonsense can wait until Grindelwald in a cell or the ground. Agreed?”

“So... we can get ‘em back after we’ve dealt with Grindelwald?”

“Agreed?!”

“Yes Boss.”

“Thank you,” Percival sighed, shaking his head. “Back on topic. Chambers, please have memos sent to the archive department and the warlocks requesting their assistance in a sweep of the President’s office and in re-establishment of the wards around it.”

“Sir,” Chambers uttered, scribbling down the task on his pad. 

Percival nodded. 

“Simpson, can you draft a memo to Madame Josephine requesting updates on the aurors who are currently hospitalised to be sent through to my office?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Cruz, Malik, can you arrange for Clean-Up Crew to go over Beacon Mountain and try and fix whatever damage was done to the monuments in the battle yesterday. The aurors named there probably wouldn’t mind the rubble, but their families certainly will.”

“On it, Boss.”

“Clean-Up Crew?” Newt echoed with a bemused frown. 

“They’d be our version of your Department of Accidents and Catastrophes.”

“Ah.”

“Tina, you’re the best writer. Can you draft a letter to the civilian attendees from yesterday expressing - our apologies for any trauma caused by what happened yesterday; assurances that Grindelwald’s attempt to terrorise MACUSA and the American magical Community failed; that we’re more determined than ever to fight him and all who call themselves his allies; and that they can rely on us to protect them from this madman and his schemes. Send the draft through to my office as soon as you’re done. I’d probably best write a statement for the Ghost as well. I hope they’ve not done too much of a hatchet job on us this morning.”

“Singing our damn praises actually,” Malik scoffed, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “I’m sure the hatchet will fall eventually. But this morning was pretty much more of yesterday’s flag waving, ‘bring it on’ rhetoric.”

“Well, that makes a nice change from the past few months of us being a pack of incompetents’,” Percival drawled, rolling his eyes. “I’ll still send an appropriately steadfast statement for the department all the same. I’ll also need the statements from the civilians on my desk as soon as it’s possible. ”

He drew in a deep breath, rubbing the back of his head with a thoughtful frown on his face before nodding. “I think that’s all of damage control taken care of.”

He leaned back in his seat. 

“Now the fun task of trying to figure out what it is he’s up to.”

The table fell silent. 

“...We know he’s looking for something,” Simpson said slowly. “Something small enough for one man to move.”

“How do you figure?” Chambers asked. 

“Otherwise he’d have brought someone along when he thought it was in the office, wouldn’t he?”

“He’s a wizard you gnome! He could shrink it!”

“Well something that fits in the office then!”

“ _ That _ narrows it down.”

“What do you suggest then?!

“If you two don’t stop fighting I’ll seperate you,” Percival drawled. 

“If you can’t list, off the top of your head, some sort of weapon or artifact that anyone up to ‘no good’ or in the business of grabbing power would be interested in, then chances are there’s some sort of personal connection at play. Particularly if this is something that he came up with right after breaking out of prison, or before that even,” Theseus said, steepling his fingers. “If we can find that, it’ll lead us to what he’s looking for.”

Percival hummed thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair. “We’re going to have to dig deeper into Grindelwald’s past.”

Theseus nodded firmly. 

“I’ve been pushing to do it for months and months back home,” he said, his voice thick with frustration. “I keep getting overruled.”

“Why?” TIna asked, frowning. 

“Well, we’re being kept pretty bloody busy by his little zealots running about Europe. Trying to keep them that side of the channel while helping our mates on the continent out where we can, that sort of thing. But there’s also an element of the politically inclined being worried about ‘ _ looking idle’ _ on an election year,” Theseus sighed with air quotes, before adding, with his lip curled in disgust, “And, of course, certain  _ lines of enquiry _ have friends in high places?”

“You already have leads?” Percival asked, interest peaked, both by the possibility of progress, and the fact that Newt had gone completely still on the other side of the table.

“A few,” Theseus replied, inclining his head. “One in particular.”

“Theseus,” Newt muttered.

“You want my advice?” Theseus pressed on, in spite of the glare his brother was shooting his way. “Look into Albus Dumbledore.”

Percival arched his brow a little at that. 

“The teacher?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“The greatest wizard of our generation people think,” Theseus replied, nodding. “With influence in the ministry and beyond.”

“We’ve heard of him, haven’t we?” Queenie said, nudging TIna who nodded. 

“He’s supposed to be really powerful. People think he’s one of the only wizards who can put a stop to Grindelwald, once and for all,” she said. 

“That’s what people say,” Theseus agreed before rolling his head over onto his shoulder and shooting Percival a quick grin. “Except,  _ he won’t _ . Won’t lift a finger in fact.”

A bitter smirk tugged at his lips. 

“Instead, he sits in his classroom, transfiguring candles into canaries and turns a blind eye as people suffer and die beyond the walls.”

Percival frowned, folding his arms on the table. 

“Whiskers,” he said gently. “I can understand the frustration, truly. But you can’t condemn a man for not taking up arms when you feel he ought to.”

“Oh, I can question his inaction though,” Theseus countered. “And I can certainly question Grindelwald’s.”

“What do you mean?” Simpson uttered, frowning. 

“Well, Miss Goldstein said it herself. People the world over consider Dumbledore to be one of the only wizards alive who can match Grindelwald. Who can stop him. Yes?”

Percival and the others (with the exception of Newt, who was focusing stubbornly on the snake-thing in his lap) nodded their agreement. 

“Well, there have been others. Others who have stepped up, or been said to stand a chance against him,” Theseus continued. “And Grindelwald responded appropriately to that each of those times.”

“Well there you have it,” Malik said, frowning at the apparent simplicity of the situation. “That’s why Dumbledore’s keeping out of it.”

“Except, it’s not just  _ his _ actions that is a matter of interest,” Theseus replied. “It’s Grindelwald, and his complete lack of response to these claims.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. 

“People say that his hesitance is down to fear. They say the reason that he’s not come to Britain and started to wreak havoc like he has across the continent and here, is because he wishes to avoid a confrontation with Dumbledore. Who, might I add, in spite of his reputation, hasn’t actually properly showcased his flair for combat. Unlike the likes of, say... Ivor Krum.”

Percival grimaced and inclined his head. 

“I heard about that,” he muttered. “Couldn’t quite believe it, until… well.” 

Until he’d faced Grindelwald himself. 

“Sorry, but who’s Ivor Krum?” Tina asked. 

“He was a bulgarian auror,” Percival sighed, rubbing tiredly at his face. “ _ Immensely _ powerful. Theseus and I, we made a name for ourselves as a team during the war, and then some in regards to Theseus. But Krum, he was a one man army.”

“Good man though,” Theseus muttered. “Honourable.”

He sniffed, running his finger around the rim on his empty cup of tea. “ _ He _ stepped up. And Grindelwald slaughtered him. Then he left him strung up for the world to see what befalls those who think they can stand in his way.”

He looked up, casting his gaze across the room. 

“You’ve faced him yourselves. You’ve seen what he’s capable of doing, the lengths he’s willing to go. Do any of you think that we’re dealing with a man who would avoid confrontation on the chance that someone may match him in power?”

Percival  _ knew _ he wouldn’t. He’d have contingencies put in place, certainly, but he wouldn’t hide. He certainly hadn’t in any other instance. Theseus was right. A change in behaviour this drastic suggested there was more to the story somewhere down the line. 

“You said Dumbledore’s a teacher though, at Hogwarts?” Queenie said, frowning thoughtfully. “Maybe he just can’t get to him. With him being in the castle and all.”

Theseus inclined his head. 

“That’s a fair point, Miss Goldstein. But there is a pretty simple solution to that conundrum,” he said, before turning to Percival. “Pup, I want you to kill Queenie. But she’s in a building you can’t enter. And she can stay there for a while. What do you do?”

“I go after Tina and smoke Queenie out using her as leverage,” Percival replied simply, arching his brow. “Dumbledore has family?”

“A brother.”

“Unguarded?”

“Belligerently so. And furthermore, Dumbledore’s not made any requests for this to be amended, in spite of his clearly having the connections to do so.”

“So he’s secure in the knowledge that Grindelwald won’t be trying to get to him any time soon,” Percival muttered, brows furrowed. 

Theseus hummed. 

“So we have a man, considered far and wide to be powerful enough to beat Grindelwald, who has been called on to stand up, but has thus far refused the call. In spite of cutting down every other poor soul held in similar esteem, irregardless or action or inaction on their part, Grindelwald has done nothing in regards to Dumbledore. And in spite of the fate of said poor souls, Dumbledore appears to have taken no action to guard him and his from any belated attack Grindelwald may launch. It’s almost as if the both of them wish to avoid this confrontation, or simply know it won’t happen” he said, counting off the points on his fingers. “Now, Dumbledore could well just be a coward. But this is out of character for Grindelwald. And when there’s deviation from a pattern, there’s more often than not cause for that. There is a connection there, that nobody wants to talk about, that is actively being suppressed by Dumbledore’s friends in the ministry, and appears to have some considerable sway on Grindelwald’s actions. It  _ must _ be explored.”

“Albus Dumbledore is a good man,” Newt muttered, speaking up properly for the first time. 

Theseus scoffed derisively. 

“Good men don’t stand by idly as others suffer. They don’t ignore the responsibility to act simply for their own benefit.”

“You’re forcing your ideals onto others, Theseus.”

“People go to him, Newt,” Theseus grit out. “Victims. Families. People who Grindelwald has hurt in one way or another, they write to him, they go to him, and they  _ beg _ him to help. They  _ beg _ him to step up and do what he can to stop others from suffering the same.”

He arched his brow and looked around. 

“So where is he? Eh? After hearing the stories of people who have suffered by Grindelwald’s hand,  _ what has been his response?  _ This great man. To hide and look out for number one.”

Newt grit his teeth, glaring down at the table. 

“He defended me.”

“And you’re allowing your gratitude to blind you to the facts,” Theseus said. “Albus Dumbledore is, at best, a coward. At worst-”

“Alright, enough,” Percival said, rising to his feet and shooting both brothers a firm look. “At the end of the day, the decision is mine to make, at least in this jurisdiction. And I’ve heard enough. So the both of you cut it out and cool off.”

Theseus and Newt exchanged a quick, heated look, before grudgingly sinking back in their respective seats. 

“So?” Tina prompted, shooting both Scamander's a furtive glance once she had. 

“We need to investigate Dumbledore,” Percival replied, nodding firmly. “If there’s a connection there, and it seems there is, we need to find it and explore it.”

He looked up when Newt let out a strangled, but decidedly indignant sound. 

“Newt, believe me, if anyone appreciates loyalty when they see it, it’s me. And I do. But we cannot allow that to get in the way of  _ any _ information that could aid us in this fight. Doing so is risking people’s lives.”

“Dumbledore is a good man,” Newt insisted once more, quiet but defiant all the same. 

Percival inclined his head. 

“He may well be. We’re information hunting, not condemning.  If Dumbledore is the man you consider him to be, and that which I have always heard him to be, then he will understand why this must be done - regardless of whether he wishes it or not. There  _ is _ just cause.”

Theseus nodded firmly beside him. 

“That said,” Percival continued. “I will be writing to him requesting voluntary assistance.”

This time Theseus balked. 

“You think I haven’t done that already?” he huffed. 

“On the contrary. I fear you have,” Percival drawled, his hand dropping to the other man’s shoulder and squeezing it fondly. “Theseus. You’re my friend and I love you, but when you get yourself worked up to this state, situations have a habit of deteriorating around you.”

Theseus paused, staring up at him with eyes wide with shock, before narrowing into a put out glare. 

“We agreed never to talk of Paris again.”

“ _ You _ said we’ll never talk of Paris again.  _ I _ agreed to nothing. But clearly you take my point.”

“Smartarse.”

“So, we’ll look into any connection between Dumbledore and Grindelwald. If there is a legitimate one, as you suspect, we’ll determine the nature and extent of that.  _ I _ will write a letter to Dumbledore requesting his assistance-”

“He won’t help,” Theseus sighed. “He’ll just call his friends in the ministry and get them to make a fuss for you over here as well. And it will give my motives for being here away.”

“Oh, I’d not be quite so sure,” Percival drawled. 

Theseus frowned, folding his arms over his chest. 

“What do you mean?”

“You say people who’ve been victimised by Grindelwald one way or another have started to send him letters, yes?” Percival prompted, arching his brow. “Well as it so happens,  _ I’ve _ found myself victimised by Grindelwald to quite some degree. And in that capacity, as well as a man in charge of trying to curb the bastards rise to power, I will write to him and request any help he can find it in himself to provide.”

Theseus arched his brow a little at that, before humming and nodding slowly. 

“It could work,” he muttered. 

Percival nodded back. 

“That should cover all of our arses. And his response could very well lend us insight into his motives. If he’s sympathetic - then his response will likely reflect that. As it will if he is dismissive, conflicted, frustrated with being bothered with the matter again. If he tries to dissuade us from pursuing, we may well be able to ascertain whether he bears sympathies for Grindelwald and his cause, or if he is, indeed, afraid of him.”

“And if he doesn’t respond?”

“Then we’re no worse off than we’d have been if we didn’t send the letter,” Percival replied with a shrug. “If your superiors try to come and throw their weight around here or come after you, I’ll stick to my story and I think the President can deal with the political over-reach from there.”

He nodded firmly.

“So, I’ll send a letter to Dumbledore, The Ghost and Madame Picquery,” he said. “Malik, Tina, Cruz, I want every scrap of information we have in the archives regarding Grindelwald to be brought here for review. It’s all likely current events but we need to be comprehensive. If you spot anything about Dumbledore, bring that too.”

“Yes Boss,” Tina said, scribbling down the task along with the others. 

He turned to Theseus. 

“I’ll arrange fire-meetings with our counterparts over in Europe and see what they can find for us on Grindelwald’s past. If you have any contacts in Britain who can help, reach out to them and get information on Grindelwald and Dumbledore sent through as confidentially as possible.”

Theseus smiled and nodded firmly. 

“Will do.”

Percival nodded before raising a hand for everyone’s attention. 

“ _ Very _ important. Outside of this office,  _ nobody _ is to know that we’ve got any interest in Dumbledore unless  _ I’ve _ reached out to them myself or okayed it. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Chambers said, nodding. “But... why?”

“Because if there is something to this, something that we can use to figure out what Grindelwald is up to, then we don’t want him finding out that we’re catching on. He could change or accelerate his plans before we get the chance to make our move if he does.”

He got to his feet. 

“The element of surprise is all we have at the moment, we must guard it,” he said, frowning down at the files before him. “Simpson, Chambers, send out those memos to the archives, the warlocks, the Clean-Up Crew and Madame Josephine. Then help the others with finding and sorting through what we’ve got. Other than that, business as normal for everything else. Keep an eye on the trackers. We’ll make a show of buckling down security around MACUSA too. We want him to think that  _ we _ think that this is his target. We’ll keep tracking SGNs on the map.”

“SGNs?” Newt uttered. 

“Suspected Grindelwald Nonsense,” Tina scoffed softly. 

Percival paused, wracking his brain for a moment, trying to think of anything he may have missed - before shaking his head. 

“For now, until we have a better direction, I think that’s the best we can do,” he said. 

“Right, well let’s get to work!” Malik said, nodding firmly. 

Percival nodded back. 

“Yes, you all get started. There’s just something that I need to take care of first,” he said, patting Theseus on the back before heading off up the stairs on his own. 

 

* * *

 

 

The hospital wing was quieter now, though far more beds were filled than there had been the day before yesterday. 

Percival made his way down the aisle between them, nodding to the aurors that were awake as he passed.

He cleared his throat politely once he reached the bed at the end of the ward. Avery Wilson jumped at the noise all the same, although he tried to hide it valiantly a second later. 

“Boss,” he uttered, eyes widening as he hastily pushed himself upright. “I- is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Percival assured. “I just heard you were going to be discharged soon and thought I ought to check in.”

Wilson flushed, clearly embarrassed by his panic, before nodding and shifting until he was sitting properly, folding his hands in his lap. 

“Of course. Sorry Sir.”

“It’s fine. No need to be sorry,” Percival replied, before nodding to the visitor’s chair. “May I?”

The other man started again, but not out of fright this time, which was progress. 

“Yes! Of course, sorry,” he uttered, nodding. 

He grinned bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck. “Simpson and Chambers have been down here most. They don’t usually ask.”

“I imagine they compete for the chair,” Percival scoffed, rolling his eyes as he settled down on the seat himself, grimacing a little at the discomfort before settling. “So, you’ll be going home soon?”

“Yes, thank the powers for that,” Wilson replied, nodding, before shrugging. “Madame Josephine runs a much more pleasant ward than Weiss ever did mind. But hospitals are never all that much fun.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Percival scoffed, nodding.

Wilson’s shot him a small, strained smile, before dropping his gaze down to the hands in his lap. 

A silence fell, loud and uncomfortable for the both of them. Percival grimaced.  

Sighing deeply, he asked, “You don’t mind if we move on from small talk, do you?”

“Please,” Wilson laughed softly, a small grin twitching and dying quick on his lips. 

Percival nodded himself. 

“Alright then. Well first and foremost, I think it’s best that you take a little leave for at least the next week or so,” he said. 

The younger man bowed his head, letting out a deep sigh. 

“I understand sir.”

“I also think it’s important for me to emphasise that there  _ will _ be a spot for you on the team when that week, or however long you need, comes to an end,” Percival continued. 

Wilson blinked, daring a quick glance up and over at the other man. 

“I… you’re sure?”

“Positive,” Percival replied, nodding. “You’re not obliged to take it. That’s up to you. But the position is not going to be given away to anyone else. You’re still very much a part of this team. So don’t let that weigh on your mind while you’re taking some time to recover, alright?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir,” Wilson said with a small genuine smile. Percival watched as the kids fingers clenched around the rough wool of the hospital blankets and his shoulders sagged just a bit. He clearly should have made that clear much earlier.

He looked up when the kill drew in another small breath and asked, “And second?”

“Second? Well, to be honest, I’m also a bit concerned,” Percival replied gently. 

“Concerned?” Wilson echoed. 

Percival nodded. 

“You’re being released soon, and I understand you live alone,” he said.

Wilson swallowed thickly, but nodded all the same. 

“Yes, sir.”

Percival sighed. There was no real pleasant way to say this. 

“As you’ve probably been told, you and I… share  _ certain experiences _ ,” he said, grimacing apologetically as Wilson’s shoulders rose defensively. But he pressed on regardless. “I can’t tell you what to do outside of work, and I’d never presume to do so. But I’d really urge you, one man to another, to make arrangements so you’re not completely isolated after being released. At least for the first couple of weeks. Invite a friend or family member to your home perhaps, or to stay with someone.”

He ran a hand through his hair, grimacing uncomfortably. “You really shouldn’t be alone with this, Avery.”

Wilson brows furrowed as he stared down at his hands in his lap. 

“I’d not be good company right now, Mr Graves,” he muttered miserably.

“It’s not about being good company,” Percival replied calmly. “I certainly wasn’t. But it’s important. Trust me. If you go home on your own, with all of this in your head… it’s just going to sink its claws in and rip you up.”

Wilson frowned more.

“Surely just pretending that everything’s normal is counterproductive,” he said, his head still bowed.

“You’re not pretending all’s normal. Or ignoring it. You’re just…” Percival paused, rubbing a spot on his trouser leg as he thought it over himself for a moment. “You’re putting yourself in a position where you’re reminded that you’re not on your own. That the world is going on and you are still apart of it. It’s important. It’ll frustrate you sometimes, and it may not always feel that way. But trust me, if you just sit in your apartment on your own… you will find yourself thinking that it has gone on without you, and  _ that is _ counterproductive. Believe me.”

Wilson bit his lip, balling the blankets over his lap up in his fists. 

“Did that happen with you?” he whispered, daring a quick glance up at last. 

“Yes,” Percival replied honestly. 

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing tiredly at his face. 

“I probably wouldn’t have thought so a month ago, but in hindsight, yes that’s what happened with me. I’d go home and end up just stewing over it all, until it was all I could think about whenever my mind wasn’t occupied with something else. It was the ‘go to’ when I was alone, or just idle really.”

Wilson bit his lip, nodding. 

“It’s like that with me… at night. I just… I can still feel them and every time I hear… it’s like… I’m just waiting for them to come back.”

“I understand,” Percival said quietly. He looked back up, meeting the younger man’s eye. “It’s not just you.”

Wilson chewed on his lip, his fists clenching tighter in his lap. 

“So it doesn’t go away?” he whispered, his voice cracking. 

“I’m sure it will,” Percival replied, nodding. “These things generally get better with time.”

“It doesn’t feel like it’s getting better.” 

“It’s been a week, Avery,” Percival pointed out. “A very long week, I know. But a week nonetheless.”

“It’s been months for you,” Wilson pointed out stubbornly, though Percival could hear the fear behind his words. 

He grimaced, rubbing tiredly at his face. 

“It’s… it’s a bit more complicated than that,” he sighed, leaning back heavily in his seat. “I’m sure Simpson and Chambers will fill you in on what details they have. And you can fill in the blanks. But it’s… just a bit more complicated.”

Wilson frowned, and Percival could see his mind putting the pieces together. 

He sighed. 

“I do think it gets better though,” he said. “I’ve found… given the chance, and with the right help, you do start to improve. It stops being the axis all your thoughts orbit. Life takes its place again.”

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. 

“These things come in waves.”

Wilson pulled a face at that.

“I’ve never liked the beach,” he sighed dramatically. 

Percival laughed. 

“All of the analogies that are springing to mind are water-based as well I’m afraid,” he drawled. 

“Damn,” Wilson scoffed, shaking his head. 

Another silence descended, but this time it was a thoughtful one, rather than heavy and uncomfortable. Percival could see the kid was considering what he’d been told, and leaned back in his seat, determined to let him do so in peace. 

“Simpson and Chambers keep trying to get me to stay on with them,” he muttered eventually. “Keep going on about the rent. Maybe they’ll be up for it if I bunked a little while.”

“I can ask them for you if you like?” Percival offered. 

“No, I’ll do it,” Wilson replied, shaking his head. “I’m sure they’ll agree. I think… they’ve sort of been hinting at this a couple of times as well.”

Percival inclined his head. 

“It’s your choice, Avery. All of this is. Just think about it,” he said. “That said, of course, if you need anything - I’m pretty easy to find.”

“Thanks, Boss,” Wilson uttered as Percival got to his feet. 

“Rest up, Wilson. Get better. Keep breathing,” he said, holding the kid’s eye firmly. “Life will go on, I promise.”

“Thanks, sir,” Wilson whispered, nodding. 

Percival nodded back. “See you around, kid,” he said before stepping away from the bed. 

Tina and Queenie were waiting for him outside the doors, handing over another steaming cup of coffee. 

“Thought you’d be here,” Queenie said with a small smile. “Newt and Theseus are kissing and making up. It’s all very English.”

Percival laughed softly at that and hummed as he took a sip of his coffee. 

“I can only imagine,” he said as they wandered over to the window that towered about them on the other side of the corridor. 

“How is he?” Tina asked, nodding to the hospital wing doors and Wilson beyond them.  

Percival sighed, shrugging. 

“Hard to say,” he sighed. 

“Poor thing,” Queenie uttered. 

“Though I’m hoping he’ll take my advice and spends the first week or so with Simpson and Chambers.”

Tina blinked at that, her brow rising skeptically. 

“You want him to stay with those two clowns?” she asked. 

Percival shrugged. 

“The alternative is his going home to an empty apartment to sit and stew on the matter alone,” he replied simply, taking a sip from his cup. “I’ve found that that’s not quite as effective a coping method for these sort of things than I had previously thought.”

He could see Tina staring at him from out of the corner of his eye, and he couldn’t help but scoff softly at her shock. Sure enough when he turned to face the women properly, he found her wide-eyed still. On the contrary, Queenie was smiling softly over the rim of her cup. 

“I never did properly thank you two,” he said, a small smile of his own tugging at his lips. “I should. You’ve both helped me far more than you know. And certainly more than I can say.”

Tina blinked at him, utterly stunned for a moment, before exchanging a quick smile with her sister and ducking her head.

“That’s what family’s for, isn’t it?” she drawled. 

Percival smiled warmly and inclined his head. 

“Apparently so.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! I FINALLY FINISHED THIS CHAPTER!!!!! So, so, soooo sorry this took so long guys, this chapter just really didn't want to be written. Really sorry. If it makes up for it at all, this chapter is a fair bit longer than usual, and I've got a good chunk of the next already written so hopefully (no, definitely) the next chapter will be up faster. 
> 
> Sorry again and thanks for sticking with the story in spite of the huge gaps :D Also huge thanks to everyone who commented!! You guys keep me going. 
> 
> For those of you who don't know, for previews, updates (and the occasional art and drawing) you can pop over to my Tumblr between chapters to see what's up: qed221b.tumblr.com

“So, Director, I can put you down on the record as saying it’s your view that Gellert Grindelwald could be launching an attack on MACUSA any day now?”

“That’s just blatant fear-mongering, Mr Rivers,” Percival replied, raking his fingers through his hair. “I’ll tell you again - the official statement of this office is that the Major Investigations Department is considering  _ all _ possibilities at this time. Of course, we are also taking measures to protect MACUSA from the threat of a breach by Gellert Grindelwald, his followers, or anybody else for that matter, but that doesn’t mean there’s an imminent threat of a breach.”

“A  _ further _ breach, you mean.”

“No, I do not mean that,” Percival said firmly. “The wards knitted into the fabric of the Woolworth building held strong, and managed to contain Grindelwald to the Presidential Office once it had been placed in lockdown. That, as well as the fact that he was forced to take the measures he did to gain entry in the first place - measures that we have now made moves to counter in light of his recent activities, is a big point in our favour and should be seen as such.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll share any information on some of these new measures that you’ve taken?” Rivers enquired. 

“As I’m sure you predicted, that’s  _ highly _ confidential information. So no,” Percival replied, the corner of his lip twitching when the other man gave an unsurprised - though decidedly displeased hum and set about making notes. He loathed talking to the press. He always had and he doubted very much that that would ever change. It was tedious, frustrating, stressful, and surprisingly physically uncomfortable. 

He shifted stiffly once again as the sound of Bill Rivers’ pen scratching away emitted from the fire. The whole point of having fireplaces in the offices was to conduct meetings such as these.  _ Why _ didn’t anyone have the brainwave of positioning them at standing height while said offices were being constructed? Or sitting height, at the very least. His knees were killing him from the prolonged kneeling. There had to be some sort of ulterior motive at play. It was either to try and force retirement on senior staff, or to stop certain directors from yammering on for hours on end. He could sympathise with the latter but the former was becoming a very real concern.

“Have you got any comment on how Grindelwald escaped in spite of this supposed feat?” Rivers eventually asked, still scribbling away at his parchment so the only view Percival had of him was the top of his balding head. “You just pointed out that the wards of the building were able to hold him - why is it that we’re not writing about MACUSA’s second chance at condemning the most dangerous wizard who has ever lived.”

“There have been many dangerous wizards through the ages, Mr Rivers, let’s not pay the man compliments,” Percival replied, arching his brow pointedly. “In regards to your enquiry, I’m afraid that information is also confidential, as the investigation into the attack on Beacon Mountain is ongoing.”

“This is regarding the breach of the Presidential Office, Director Graves.  _ Not _ the attack on Beacon Mountain.”

“As the aforementioned breach directly followed the attack on Beacon Mountain, it falls under the same investigation, which is ongoing. As with all such investigations, pertinent details will remain confidential until the case has been closed,” Percival replied with an obviously forced calm. 

The other man gave another dissatisfied hum, but nodded all the same. 

“The aurors injured in the attack are all expected to make speedy recoveries, however,” Percival muttered, picking off some lint from his trouser leg. 

“Thank the powers for that,” Rivers replied as he scratched away. 

Percival hummed, not in the least bit convinced by the man’s sincerity.

“In spite of what’s happened, I notice that the Threat Level has been recently brought down to a Level 3,” Rivers pressed instead. 

“ _ High Alert _ , yes,” Percival replied, inclining his head. “And not that recentl-”

“It was a Level 5 the last time Grindelwald was at large.”

“Yes, there was unexplained magical activity at that time - which warranted the threat level upgrade to  _ Severe _ . As that is currently not the case, the threat level has been reduced appropriately.”

“Regardless, it seems  _ very _ low, don’t you think? Recklessly low even,” Rivers replied. “In light of all that’s happening, and the fear people are experiencing? 

“The Threat Levels are determined by the threat of Magical Exposure to No-Maj society - not threats posed to the magical community in general,” Percival replied, valiantly refraining from pointing out that Rivers definitely already knew that. “At this time there’s no evidence to suggest that there’s an imminent threat of exposure to the No-Maj community - and so the threat level reflects that.”

“Gellert Grindelwald is involved. Surely you, of all people, are aware of his views and the danger he poses. How can you say there’s no threat of exposure?”

Percival let out a deep, slow breath through his nose, before answering calmly, if not somewhat coolly, “At no point did I say there was  _ no threat _ . That is why we are on  _ high alert _ . What I said is there is no evidence of  _ imminent _ threat, hence why we’re at a level three.”

“I have to say, Director, you’re showing a real disregard for the fear of attack that the magical community of America are experiencing during these times,” Rivers said as he scribbled away. “I’d have thought you, of all people-”

“I think you know quite well that, in no way do I disregard the fear people are experiencing because of this. We are hardly being idle on the matter.”

“That is very much a matter of opinion, Direc-”

“It’s not in the slightest way ‘a matter of opinion’. I’d also thank you,  _ Mr Rivers _ , to stop presuming what  _ I, of all people _ , would think or feel on these matters.”

He looked over his shoulder when the door clicked open, the corner of his lips twitching when Theseus slipped inside. He arched his brow when they other man pressed a finger to his lips and promptly tip-toed over to the small collection of drinks he had in the corner of the room and proceeded to fill two glasses with firewhiskey.

Shaking his head he turned his attention back to Rivers, who was still huffing and puffing at the lack of details he’d been given and how they suggested that no action, beyond damage control, was actually being taken at all. 

“I’d just like to know what exactly it is you’ll like me to write in this piece, Director,” the other man said, jowls trembling with indignation.

“The truth, Mr Rivers. That the MID is on the case - that we’re considering a number of lines of enquiry at this time. That the President is well and measures are being taken to ensure her continued safety and security in the wake of these new threats.”

Rivers paused, eyeing him suspiciously through the fire. 

“Is there a reason for the special interest in President Picquery’s safety?”

Percival arched his brow. 

“Grindelwald does have a penchant for persistence and abducting high ranking government officials. All the way up to, it seems, the President.”

Rivers was scribbling away furiously at his notepad. 

“So it’s your opinion that President Picquery is a target?”

“I didn’t say that. We’re just taking precautionary measures,” Percival replied swiftly, before raising a hand. “And I’m afraid that I’ve got a meeting that I’m already running late for. I apologise Mr Rivers, but I’m going to have to leave you for today.”

Rivers hummed an affirmative at that and nodded a quick farewell to Percival before the connection was cut between them.

“Nicely done,” Theseus drawled, offering Percival one of the tumblers, before making himself comfortable in a guest chair. “Slipped that in there right at the end.”

Percival shifted to sit on the floor instead, rubbing at his sore knees a little before taking a sip of his whiskey himself.

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head.

“Good of the President to agree to play the part,” Theseus mused. “By tomorrow morning it will be common knowledge that whatever Saturday was, MACUSA is of the opinion that she is the target of it all. Reckon Grindelwald will buy it?”

“I’m not sure,” Percival sighed, rising stiffly to his feet and shifting to the second guest chair, leaning back in it heavily. “But it should muddy the water a little and give us room to find an actual direction of our own.”

“Make him a bit more careless as well,” Theseus added.

Percival nodded, sipping his whiskey all the while. 

“Hopefully,” he said. “If his aim in coming after me like he has been, is to rattle me, then that could work in our favour. His ego could come into play and make him more inclined to believe that he’s been successful.”

“Well, it’s the best we can do at the moment in any case,” Theseus replied simply.

Percival lifted his glass at that, nodding his head before knocking the rest of the drink back, Theseus doing the same beside him. 

“Another?” Theseus asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Percival shrugged. 

“One more,” he said, rubbing tiredly at his face as Theseus got to his feet to retrieve the bottle of firewhiskey from its shelf. He hummed as the thought came to mind. 

“I finished my letter to Dumbledore,” he said, nodding to the unsealed envelope sitting on the top of a pile of reports. “You’ve got more experience with the man than I do. Would you give it a read-over?”

Theseus sighed deeply, running a hand over his face

“You know my opinion on this,” he said, pulling out a pair of glasses from his pocket and reaching for the envelope regardless. 

Percival nodded. 

“I do,” he said. “And I sympathise. But we’ve gone through this.”

Theseus sighed again, before turning his attention to the letter and setting about reading it out aloud. 

“ _ Dear Professor Dumbledore _ … well that needs to be re-written for a start,” he drawled. “Too friendly.”

“Theseus,” Percival sighed, rolling  his eyes as he took another sip of his drink and motioned for the other man to carry on reading - which he eventually did.

“ _ First and foremost, I understand that you receive a lot of letters quite like this one. Regardless, I ask that you read this through to the end.   _ If he doesn’t - I  _ did _ tell you so.”

“You did. And if he doesn’t, we’re still no worse off for trying,” Percival countered. 

Theseus held his gaze stubbornly for a long moment, before heaving a deep sigh and turning back to the letter. 

“ _ My name is Percival Graves… Director of Magical Security- In charge of the American effort- Gellert Grindelwald-  _ et cetera and so forth. _ I also spent the majority of the past year held captive by Grindelwald and his followers… Won’t go into details…” _

Percival didn’t comment on the brief flicker of relief that briefly passed over the other man’s face. He grimaced. It seemed this had all effected his friend more than he’d hoped. He’d need to be mindful of that. It wouldn’t do to have Theseus beating himself up for things beyond his control - it never lead anywhere good. 

Theseus carried on reading, muttering along as his eyes scanned over the words. 

_ “-Extensive pain and suffering he has caused others as well as myself... I expect you already have a decent insight, from the accounts of others what he’s capable of.  _ Yes, he bloody does,” the man grumbled, raking his fingers irritably through his hair.  “ _...I only mention it, so you know that what I have to say comes both as someone charged to protect people from the danger Grindelwald presents, and someone who has suffered the consequence of failing to do so. _

_ “I don’t write with the intention of guilt you into taking action,”  _ Theseus read out, his eyes darting up from the letter to Percival for a long moment, before shifting back. “ _ Shame is a poor motivator when one’s life is on the line, and make no mistake, irregardless of ability - anyone who takes on Gellert Grindelwald is putting their life on the line.” _

He put the letter down. 

“Are you  _ trying _ to talk him out of ever doing the right thing?” he asked, arching his brow. 

Percival scoffed. 

“You think that this is something he doesn’t know already?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“You don’t have to encourage his cowardice,” Theseus grumbled. 

“Theseus, he’s not going to change his mind on the matter on my account,” he said. “I’m not writing with the intention of getting him to act. I’m seeking information - either provided by Dumbledore or from his response.”

“ _ If _ he responds.”

“If he responds. And if he doesn’t we’ll-”

_ “Be in no worse position than before _ , I know,” Theseus grumbled. 

Percival arched his brow, taking a contemplative sip of his drink as he eyed the other man. The situation was frustrating. It always was when the solution seemed to be right in front of you but just out of grasp. But Theseus seemed to be unusually annoyed by it all. 

“How long have you been trying to get him onboard?” he asked.

Theseus scoffed at that. 

“Officially, since Krum was murdered,” he sighed, passing a hand through his hair agitatedly. “So a little over a year and a half. I’ve been trying to talk him around unofficially way longer than that. First I thought he was just… waiting to see. Like everyone else. None of us were expecting things to get this bad.”

He sighed, leaning back heavily in his chair. 

“Sounds stupid now. But we weren’t,” he said. “Every few years, it seems - some nutcase springs up, going on about… overthrowing the muggles or cleansing the bloodlines, the usual crap. We…  _ I _ thought this was going to turn out like that. Maybe a bit worse than usual, but… it didn’t feel like a war was brewing. It didn’t feel like last time.”

Percival grimaced and shook his head. 

“No, it didn’t,” he sighed. “It wasn’t just you. None of us expected him to come here. Not yet at least.”

Theseus grimaced and nodded, his grip tightening around his glass. 

“We could have nipped it in the bud,” he muttered. “If Dumbledore had acted earlier, if I’d not waited until he got spooked - so many lives could have been saved.”

“You can’t dwell on ‘What ifs’, Whiskers. You know this.”

“Hard not to these days,” Theseus sighed, knocking back the rest of his drink before reaching for the letter again.

“It’s funny. I used to really respect him when I was a kid,” he muttered, shaking his head before reading through the rest of the letter with a far more tired air than before. 

While he read, Percival watched. It struck him again how far he and Theseus had drifted over the years, that this was the first he was hearing about his friend’s woes, his worries and his frustrations. Maybe that was for the best. If he’d been more open, if he’d enquired more into Theseus’ well being, perhaps he’d have mentioned the matter in a letter  _ to _ Grindelwald, and this potential lead they had would be bust. Dumbledore could have potentially been put in the crosshairs too, and co-operative or not, Percival would never be comfortable with the thought of a civilian being put in danger. 

Then again, if he’d been more open, if he’d fostered relationships more readily, if he’d not isolated himself so much - maybe he’d have not been so easily replaced. Maybe someone would have noticed. Maybe they could have caught the devil earlier. The Barebone boy could have been saved, perhaps. Maybe even his victims. Collins could have been spared too. Wilson as well. If he’d just… been more open, friendlier, maybe Grindelwald wouldn’t have come for him at all. 

But he would have come. If not for him, then someone else. And no matter how he had suffered, was still suffering even - that thought would never sit comfortably with him either. 

He shook his head and reminded himself of his own advice. It doesn’t do to dwell on ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’. What’s done is done. He’s here. He’s still breathing. He’s still fighting. Things could be so much worse. 

He startled somewhat when Theseus let out a deep breath and set the letter down on the table. He’d almost forgotten the other man was there. 

Theseus grimaced apologetically, before removing his glasses and nodding to the letter. 

“It’s good to go I’d say,” he replied. “Far more diplomatic than the measures I’ve been taking of late.”

Percival scoffed softly. 

“I can imagine,” he drawled as he sealed the envelope. 

Theseus smiled himself, taking a sip of his whiskey. 

“I did get a bit of a bollocking for the last one,” he chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Oh yes? What did you do? Send a howler?”

Percival arched his brow when his offhand joke was met with a rather telling silence. He turned and found Theseus refilling his glass instead, seemingly quite occupied with the task. 

“You sent a howler?” he asked, both brows rising in disbelief. “In an official capacity?”. 

“I was angry.”

“What did it say?”

Theseus eyed him stubbornly for a long moment, so long in fact that Percival began to think that he might actually refuse to answer. However, just as he was about to drop the subject the other man let out a deep sigh and leaned back heavily in his chair. 

“Something about how he’s lucky I haven’t gone up to Hogwarts and dragged him out by his posh little goatee myself,” he replied, not sounding the least bit sorry for it. 

But Percival knew him better than that. 

“And?” he pressed. 

Theseus pulled a face, before sipping from his glass again. 

Percival waited him out this time, and sure enough, Theseus eventually continued - this time a little more shamefacedly. 

“I also may have mentioned how pathetic it was for a grown man to hide among children. That there were dangers far closer to home he might like to think about. Some stuff about what a blot on Gryffindor house’s history having him as a head must be. Among other things,” he sighed, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. 

Percival blinked at that, momentarily stunned. 

“Mercy Lewis, Theseus,” he uttered. 

“I know,” Theseus sighed. 

“I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve exceeded yourself,” Percival continued. “It’s a miracle you weren’t stood down.”

“Don’t lecture me, Pup,” Theseus replied, leaning heavily back in his seat and pinching the bridge of his nose. “It was stupid. I know.”

“It was,” Percival said, frowning. “And you’re  _ not _ stupid. So something happened.”

“It doesn’t matter, Pup. It was months ago. I wasn’t fired.”

Percival’s eyes narrowed as he fixed the other man with a calculating look, all the pieces slipping into place in his mind. Something had clearly infuriated the other man. Something close to home. Theseus could be reckless, petty, stubborn as a mule - but usually, he wasn’t so brazen about it. The only other time he’d seen something like what he’d described was in the war when they’d gotten news of fatalities in the Dragon Corps but were waiting on names. 

Fury such as that was always the result of terror where Theseus Scamander was concerned. 

And this happened months ago. When Newt had been in a considerable amount of danger thanks entirely to Gellert Grindelwald and, to a scared and infuriated sibling’s mind, the man who’d continued to allow the rabid beast run across the globe unchecked. 

“Pup,” Theseus sighed. 

“When was this?” he asked. 

“Does it matter?”

“Theseus.”

The man sighed again. 

“Christmas,” he replied, finishing off his drink. “Thereabouts.”

Percival nodded, finding himself unsurprised by the answer. 

“Ah,” he uttered, grimacing sympathetically. “Well, I suppose having your baby-brother almost executed by a raging psychopath can make a man a bit volatile.”

Theseus frowned, for some reason looking quite saddened by his comment. 

“It wasn’t just Newt, Pup,” he replied.  “I mean, yeah, Newt too. I was bloody livid about what the fucker tried to do to my brother. Messing with his case too.”

“His suitcase?” Percival echoed, frowning. 

“He went inside. Didn’t touch anything mind, thank goodness. But he could have. The threat was there,” Theseus sighed, shaking his head. “And if he had… it would have killed Newt. Those creatures are his life. So, yeah I guess a lot of it was Newt. But, I mean, of course I was furious about what had happened to you.”

Percival blinked, finding himself surprised for a moment, then feeling a little silly.

Theseus huffed a soft scoff at his, apparently, visible surprise, and shook his head. 

“I wake up and there’s letters from Newt telling me that Gellert Grindelwald was just captured in New York, running about with Percival Graves face. Get to the office - People are panicking. Everyone’s getting checked.  _ I _ get interrogated for over an hour, to make sure that we’d not be compromised as well. Nobody would tell me anything. Nobody knew anything. Just that Grindelwald had been running about as you, nobody knew for how long, and nobody knew where you were. Whether you were…”

He trailed off, scrubbing a couple of times at his face before leaning back heavily in his chair. 

“I wasn’t really thinking. Grindelwald was captured, there was no need for it. But my brother just came face to face with the bastard, I didn’t know if you were even alive, and  _ I _ … it was stupid.”

Percival sighed deeply, sitting back properly in the chair. He gave Theseus a moment, before gently bumping his shoe against the other man’s. When this didn’t elicit a response, he leaned forward, ducking his head a little, so to catch his friend’s eye. He shot him a small smile once he did, and nodded. 

“It was,” he said. “But  it could have turned out much worse, yes?”

The corner of Theseus’ lip twitched a fraction at that as he let out a deep breath and nodded. 

“True. I could have been fired I suppose.”

“I was actually more concerned about you storming Hogwarts to be honest,” Percival drawled, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, a tightness he’d not noticed in his chest easing as his comment was rewarded with a bark of laughter from the other man. 

“That probably wouldn’t have ended well.”

“Probably not. Breaking you out of Azkaban is a whole other monster than those no-maj lock-ups.”

“I have complete faith in your abilities, Pup,” Theseus drawled. “Fortunately I settled for throwing tantrums via post though.”

Percival smiled and reached over, resting his hand on the other man’s broad shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“I’d have likely done the same, if our situations were reversed,” he confessed, smiling when Theseus let out an unconvinced sounding snort in response. He inclined his head. “Or at least, it would be a very close thing. Either way, I understand. But let’s not threaten violence upon civilians again in the near future, eh, Whiskers?”

“I’ll give it my best shot,” Theseus replied with a sigh and a tired grin, reaching up to pat Percival’s hand, before leaning back in his chair once more and slipping his glasses back into his pocket. 

Percival smirked, leaning back himself before drawling, “Since when are you blind?”

“‘Bout the same time you started going grey I expect,” Theseus retorted without missing a beat, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. “We’re getting old.”

“Still got a bit of fight left in us, yes?”

“That we do,” Theseus replied, leaning over to pat Percival’s knee before cocking his head to the side, like a curious dog. “You done with meetings for the day?”

Percival furrowed his brows thoughtfully, eyes drifting upwards as he went through his mental list. 

“Picquery’s got me penciled in for another this evening, but otherwise, yes,” he replied, nodding. 

He startled slightly when Theseus clapped his hands together exuberantly (though he was grateful the other man didn’t immediately cringe and apologise for it once he had). 

“Right then. What sort of training area have you lot got over here?” he asked. 

Percival blinked.

“Training?” he echoed, raising a skeptical brow as he got to his feet to take the bottle of firewhiskey back to its shelf. “Whiskers, Not 4 hours ago you were fussing about me coming to the office, now you want to duel.”

“Duel? No. But you’ve just got a new wand and, if you’re up for it, you should probably get some practice in with it,” Theseus pointed out. “Nothing strenuous. But it wouldn’t do to have you caught unprepared.”

Percival grimaced at the thought, an accompanying cold thrill of panic running up the back of his neck. He shook his head. 

“No, definitely not,” he muttered, before lifting his head to meet the other man’s eye. “Let’s do it.”

“Take your potions first.”

“Has anyone ever told you that your priorities turn on a dime?”

“My mother mostly.”

  
  


* * *

 

 

The search wasn’t going nearly as well as any of them had hoped. They’d all been working hard - digging up every scrap of background and current information on Grindelwald that they could find, then going through it, searching for connections, investigating the connections they did find. But over a week had passed and so far nobody had managed to stumble across a  _ eureka _ moment just yet. It was coming. Tina was sure of it. They just had to stick at it and sooner or later something would click into place and give them a heading. But until that happened, it was hard not to feel like they were all failing, again.

Tina sighed and leaned back in her seat, scrubbing roughly at her face a couple of times before looking around the room. All the others looked just as dejected as she felt. It seemed there’d be no breakthrough today either. 

The sound of chair legs scraping against stone came from Graves’ office, and soon enough he and Theseus came strolling out, like they had done at 1 o’clock every afternoon for the past week. 

Whatever it was they were doing, she couldn’t find it in herself to hold it against them. Graves was looking more like his old self than Tina had seen him since… well, she couldn’t even put a date to it. 

She’d seen too much of what’s been going on under the surface with Graves to entirely believe it, no matter how much she wanted to. It felt very much like riding the crest of a wave watching him, and she couldn’t help but fear when he inevitably got dumped upon. But for now, after all that had happened, she could hardly begrudge him this contentment as it lasted. 

“Tina?”

She looked up, blinking when she spotted the man in question (and the rest of the team) looking in her direction. She flushed with embarrassment. Away with the fairies again. 

“Sorry sir, yes?”

Graves smiled and shook his head. 

“I’d say that settles it,” he drawled. “Get up and come to the dueling halls with us. You all look like you’re about to burst into tears and it’s been awhile since we’ve had a team training session.”

Theseus nodded. 

“Always good to clear your head for a bit when you’re stumped on something,” he said. “Like taking steps back from a painting.”

Tina blinked, momentarily stunned - then horrified when this new data fell into place.

“You’ve been training?!”

“I got cleared by Madame Josephine yesterday,” Graves replied with a quirk of his brow. 

“But you’ve been doing this since last Sunday,” she retorted, eyes wide. 

“Not dueling,” Graves replied, before rolling his eyes and jabbing his thumb back in Theseus’ direction. “He wouldn’t let me.”

“When I beat you, I like to gloat. Can’t gloat about beating an invalid.”

“You’re altruism really is touching.”

“You… want us to train with you two?” Chambers uttered, cutting her off before she could press the subject further. In spite of her lingering alarm, she couldn’t help but scoff quietly when she spotted the look on his face - his eyes blown wide and voice hushed like he’d just been offered something priceless. 

Graves arched his brow. 

“It’s not compulsory-”

Before he’d even finished everyone was putting their things away and getting to their feet. 

Theseus tutted at the door. 

“You’ve been neglecting your kids, Pup,” he drawled. 

“I’ll never understand why you and your brother insist on forcing parental spins on every situation,” Graves replied, rolling his eyes as the two of them lead the way out of the bullpen and down into the bowels of the building. 

Tina hadn’t realised how long it had been since she’d been to the dueling halls until she stepped inside. 

They really were an impressive sight. Keeping with the grandeur of the rest of MACUSA’s design, the room was positively cavernous, with high, arching ceilings. In spite of being set deep below the foundations of the building (in an effort to lessen the threat of anyone accidently blowing a hole straight through the the No-Maj’s side of the building) golden light flowed through the four, massive, circular windows set into each of the surrounding walls, casting the room in hues of the finest of summer afternoons sunlight.

She smiled. 

It had been way too long since she’d visited. 

“So what will it be, Boss?” Chambers asked, shifting restlessly from foot to foot, an excited grin spread across his face. “Us vs you two?”

Graves smiled at the suggestion as Theseus, less charitably, laughed outright. 

“That’s probably not the best idea, Chambers,” he said. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chambers sniffed stubbornly, puffing his chest out a bit when Theseus carried on snickering. “I don’t care how good you two are. The lot of us can take you. Any time. Any place.”

“Chambers, shut up,” Simpson hissed as Wilson nudged his other side. 

“Now, kid, I don’t want this to sound like a rebuke,” Theseus drawled, resting his arm on Graves shoulder as he shot a cocky grin at the team at large. “But Percival and I could take the lot of you, tied together, with a wandless start. No problem.”

Graves rolled his eyes in despair.

“Theseus don’t-” he started, only to be interrupted by Chambers thrusting his hand forward. 

“You’re on!” he announced. “Us, against you two, tied together, wandless and starting over there.”

Graves sniffed and looked over at Theseus, who’d fallen silent, brows shooting up at the acceptance of his mock challenge. 

“You just had to open your big mouth, didn’t you?” he muttered. 

“Oh hush, Percy. We’ve got this,” Theseus said, shaking Chambers hand firmly. “It’ll be fun. Britain vs the US. The Colonies against good ol’ Rule Britannia once more.”

“For the thousandth time, you can’t just will people British, Whiskers.”

“So you keep saying, but the facts tell a different tale.”

“Unbelievable.”

Tina (and the others) shot the two of them are rather dubious look before sighing heavily. 

“Boss, I’m not sure about this,” Tina said, grimacing. 

“Yeah, we don’t want to hurt anybody,” Simpson said, shooting Chambers a pointed look. 

“Not like this is a huge victory for us anyway,” Cruz sniffed. “Shooting down two unarmed and tied up guys from a distance. Sorta like calling a firing squad  _ the winners _ really.”

“Cruz, come on. They  _ laughed _ at the idea of us matching them.  _ Laughed _ ,” Chambers huffed. 

“Well they’re not laughing now.”

“Oh, I’d not go that far,” Graves replied as he pulled off his coat and set about rolling up his sleeves, Theseus doing the same beside him. 

“... You’re seriously going to do this?” Tina uttered, looking between the two of them like she was trying to spot the joke. 

“Why not. It will be good for your confidence,” Graves replied with a teasing shrug, which ruffled a few feathers. 

“You know what they say about pride, Boss?” Malik drawled. 

Graves inclined his head. 

“We’ll see who’s ego will trip them up in the end, shall we?” he drawled, folding his coat over his arm before offering his wand to Chambers, then holding his arm out to Tina, Theseus doing the same beside him. 

“You’re both mad,” Tina sighed as she took out her wand and, with a swish of it, shackled their wrists together, 

“I’ve been saying so for over 10 years now,” Graves drawled before he and Theseus made their way over to the other side of the room (the latter merrily humming ‘God Save The King’ as he went).

“We can’t shoot stunners at them all at once. We could kill them,” Tina sighed, turning to the others who nodded (well most of them nodded, Chambers pride seemed to have been stung by his mentor’s mirth). 

“Cruz and I have the best aim. We’ll shoot,” Malik said. “Goldstein, Chambers, Simpson, you try and catch them with incarcerous spells. Wilson, you’re not off desk duty yet, are you?”

Wilson sighed and shook his head miserably.

“Not yet,” he said. 

“You ref then,” Malik said, nodding at him. “Jinx Chambers if he tries anything stupid.”

“I would never-!”

“Will do, sir,” said Wilson, the corners of his lips curling a fraction as he moved off to the edge of the dueling area, ignoring the aforementioned’s scandalised gasp. 

Tina and the other’s shifted into formation and lined up along the other side of the dueling area. Percival and Theseus’ wands were tucked safely in the inside pocket of Chamber’s heavy leather coat. The men in question, who still seemed to be bickering between themselves, moved to stand in position as well, about 50 feet across from them. 

“Everybody ready?” Wilson called from his spot off to the side. 

“Ready,” Theseus called, casting his coat aside as Percival nodded and did the same. 

Sighing deeply Tina glanced over at the others before calling back and affirmative herself. 

“Alright. The duel starts on  _ Go _ . Wands out… if you have them.”

Tina bit her lip and looked back over at Graves and Theseus once again, searching for any sign of second thoughts. There didn’t seem to be any. Still… this all just seemed like such a bad idea. Graves had just been given an all clear from healers, and risking multiple stunners was never a brilliant idea at the best of times. 

“3.”

She frowned as both men shifted, Theseus moving as if to step in front of Percival, while the latter watched them all carefully with a calm, calculating air. Something about the look in his eyes made her pause. Perhaps they were not as vulnerable as it seemed. 

“2.”

“Keep your guards up. They’ve got a plan,” she muttered to the others.

“1.”

“What?” Cruz hissed.

“They’re up to something keep your guards up,” Tina said again. “Chambers, keep a firm hold of those wands.”

“Go!”

Malik and Cruz shot off their stunning spells, both of which shot straight across the room at Theseus, who’d stepped in front of Percival as predicted. Then, with just a wave of his hand, both spells changed course and when smashing into the stone wall behind them instead. The ropes and chains that Tina, Chambers, and Simpson sent their way a second later received the same treatment. Before they could shoot off another volley though, an animalistic screech echoed loudly throughout the chamber, the echoes of it bouncing off the walls. 

Tina jumped, shifting back to join the others, who’d bunched up warily, looking around for the source of the noise. 

“Incoming!” Malik called, just as a large, dark shape swooped straight at their group, sending them all scattering. 

Tina staggered to the left, Chambers and Simpson either side of her, wands aloft and heads whipping this way and that as they attempted to track the creature as it swooped around the room. Before they could regain their bearings another screech sounded and they were set upon again, this time by a brown…  _ thing- _

“It’s their damn coats!” Cruz bellowed as she and Malik attempted to bat away what Tina could now clearly see was Graves’ discarded overcoat, crudely transfigured into the form of a larger than life bird of prey.

Tina ducked when,  _ presumably _ , Theseus’ coat swooped down on them with a screech of its own, twisting swiftly in the air before coming around once more for a second attack. She was so preoccupied with trying to not get clobbered by a flapping, animated wool and the heavy steel buttons attached to it - that she didn’t realise until it was too late that they’d completely neglected to keep an eye on Percival and Theseus themselves. 

She fell heavily to the ground with ropes wrapped tight around her arms and legs, her wand rolling a little distance away before getting summoned to Percival’s hand. Her fight done, for now at least, Tina watched as the two of them worked in perfect tandem to trip up Chambers, Percival grabbing their wands from his pocket as Theseus blocked a jinx from Simpson who was now being solely harassed by the coat-eagle. 

Chambers growled and attempted to tackle the both of them only to end up trussed up in ropes also, Simpson flopping to the ground, bound in chains and wandless a second later. 

With a wave of his hand and a screech from the woolen beak of Theseus’ coat collar, Graves sent their transfigured adversary swooping over to hound an already beleaguered Malik and Cruz. 

With a whistle and quick swish of his hand both coats swooped down on the remaining pair of aurors, wrapping themselves tightly around them, firmly enough to keep their arms pinned uselessly to their sides. 

“Expelliarmus,” Percival and Theseus cast in unison, with no particular sense of urgency, sending both aurors’ wands clattering to the ground, their owners joining them there a second later, bound and defenceless. 

“So?” Theseus drawled, looking around at the lot of them. “Do you yield?”

“ _ NEVER! _ ” Chambers bellowed, thrashing about stubbornly in his ropes, before rolling in Percival and Theseus’ direction to attempt to kick them instead. 

“Mercy Lewis, Joshua,” Tina sighed, tipping her head back against the hard wood of the floor. 

She heard Malik heave a deep sigh a little distance away. 

“We yield,” he said. 

A second later all their bonds were gone. 

“Well that was a good warm up,” Theseus chuckled as he and Percival helped them back to their feet. 

“Let’s try and win gracefully for once, why don’t we?” Percival drawled as Tina took his offered hand and got to her feet, dusting herself off. 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Crafty use with the coats there,” Cruz commented, slipping her wand back into his hold. 

Percival shrugged. 

“Use what’s on hand,” he replied, before turning to Simpson and Chambers (and Wilson when he walked back over to join them). “If you’re ever disarmed, and unable to fall back and wait for backup, your best option is to divide your opponent’s attention. They can’t shoot you if they’re focusing on something else.”

The younger aurors nodded dutifully at the advice. 

“So - Round 2?” Theseus asked, twirling his wand between his fingers a little as he bounced on the balls of his feet, seemingly full of restless energy. 

Percival hummed, shrugging before looking around at the others. 

“Interested?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Hell yeah!” Chambers said, nodding firmly, pointing straight at Theseus. “I’m gonna get you this time.”

“Ambitious little thing, isn’t he?” Theseus drawled, an amused grin tugging at his lips. 

“That’s one word for it,” Percival drawled before looking to the others and getting nods of approval. 

“Alright then,” he replied nodding. “Count off for teams. I’ll start. 1.”

“2,” Simpson, who’d been standing beside him, said - moving to stand apart from the rest.

“1,” Tina said, joining Percival. By the end of it, it worked out that Tina, Percival, and Chambers would be fighting against Cruz, Simpson and Theseus, with Malik and Wilson acting as Refs and Medics. 

“We’ll take you both on another time,” Malik drawled as he and Wilson moved to the sidelines. “For now we’ll let you reveal all your tricks.”

Tina smiled a little as she looked after them and found Wilson looking a little less miserable than before. 

“You’re going to want to be on your defence, Theseus always makes the first move and he’ll be advising the others to do the same,” Percival replied as they withdrew to the other side of the dueling area. 

Tina looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, found the man in question holding what looked like an impromptu war-conference 

“I’ll take on Theseus. You two pick an opponent and stick with them. If you beat them, help each other before coming to aid me. Like I said, Theseus is tricky.  _ All  _ focus needs to be on him. I’m trusting you both to take care of Cruz and Simpson.”

“Got it Boss,” Chambers said, nodding firmly along with Tina. 

“Everybody ready?” Malik called. 

Tina moved so she was standing opposite Cruz, nodding when she spotted Percival looking her way. 

“Ready,” he called, Theseus echoing him a second later. 

“Alright. Wands out. Start on  _ Go _ ,” Malik called. “3. 2. 1.  _ Go. _ ”

As Graves had predicted, the other team immediately took the offensive in a big way. Tina actually found herself taking a step back when Cruz sent three stunners at her one after the other. She managed to block two of them but had to dive out of the way of the third, then roll away from the incarcerous spells that were promptly thrown at her. 

Getting hastily back to her feet she dodged another stunner before send off one of her own, casting her gaze quickly around the immediate area in search of something that she could use to distract or aid her, like Graves and Theseus had done them. 

She yelped when a stinging spell caught her by the arm, twisting around and hurling a jelly-leg jinx in response. It missed but sent Cruz diving out of the way regardless.

Rubbing her arm she advanced, shooting jinxes as quick as she could in an effort to maintain the advantage. Cruz managed to dodge and shield each of her attacked, but Tina had her on the back foot. She just had to wear her down. One good hit and- 

“Down!” Percival barked to her right. Without thinking Tina (and Chambers across from her) hit the deck. For good reason too. Theseus had cast a Cascading Jinx, sending a bombardment of spells to pepper the area around them. They probably would have struck true too, if Graves hadn’t lunged forward and blocked the worst of them. 

But it had given Cruz enough time to regain her bearings. Not for long though!

Scrambling back to her feet Tina ducked out of the way of another set of chords sent flying her way, before leaping forward and, with a wide slash of her wand, snapping, “ _ Impedimenta _ !” 

The spell struck. Cruz bared her teeth in clear frustration, but the speed of her usually swift and vicious movements had slowed to an almost comical level. It wouldn’t last though, and Tina knew that, so she wasted no time in disarming and then binding her opponent into submission… at least that was the plan. Except suddenly her legs seemingly grew a mind of their own and had made up said mind that now, of all times, they needed to dance. 

“Nice one, kid,” Theseus called, and Tina whirled around to glare over at Simpson, who for a brief moment looked quite pleased with himself… right before he was knocked off balance and bound in chains by Chambers. 

Clicking her tongue in disappointment ( _ she _ wanted to be the one to knock Simpson out of the fight after that little stunt) she countered the dancing-feet spell and turned back to Cruz, only to find herself flat on her back a second later, her legs having this time swept themselves out from underneath her of their own volition. 

Twisting sharply to the left she managed to just avoid the set of manacles that flew at her, blindly hurling a  _ levicorpus _ in Cruz’ direction as she stumbled back to her feet. But in the blink of an eye, her wand was flying from her hand and she found herself wrapped in tight chords. She teetered on the spot for a second, attempting to summon her wand back, but after a particularly powerful collision of one of Theseus’ spells and Graves’ shield, she lost her balance and came tumbling back down to the ground. 

Letting out a frustrated sigh she flopped and waited. Soon enough Wilson drew into sight and freed her, handing back her wand. 

“Good duel, Tina,” he said with a small smile. 

“Thanks, Avery,” she replied as they walked over to the sidelines, the both of them quickening their step as they walked behind Graves, who was now fending off both Cruz and Theseus. Tina perked up when she spotted Chambers limping grumpily over to the sideline with Malik, rubbing his bum the entire time. 

“Tell me he got knocked out before me,” she said, pointing to the younger auror. 

Wilson gave a quiet laugh and nodded. 

“Well that makes me feel a bit better.”

Behind them, there was a familiar clinking and clatter of chains, followed by the thud of a body as Cruz was knocked out of the competition as well. 

“I suppose we all knew it was going to end this way,” she grumbled after Malik retrieved her, rubbing her leg as Theseus and Percival drew closer and closer to one another, their wands slashing this way and that through the air as they threw and countered spell after spell. 

Theseus lunged forward, slashing his wand three times in quick succession like he was wielding a longsword rather than 13 inches of cedar wood. Whatever he threw Graves’ way, the other man managed to block it - though the collision of spell and shield was audible even from a fair distance away, like stone colliding with stone.

Undeterred, Graves immediately retaliated, sending a bright amber spell sizzling through the air straight at Theseus, which the latter managed to block also but the force of it sent him stumbling back a couple of paces. 

Tina grimaced. They seemed to be getting a bit carried away. She looked over to the others and found them looking equally concerned but fortunately by the time she turned back the two of them had stopped actively attacking one another and were instead circling. 

“Feeling more natural?” Theseus asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Graves shrugged. 

“I think it’s still holding back on me a bit,” he replied. “It’s responding fast enough though.”

“Well that’s progress at least,” Theseus agreed, nodding. “Shall we continue?”

“Let’s,” Percival replied. 

Without warning Theseus lunged forward, moving as if to- no, in an actual attempt to tackle Graves and take him to the floor. A move that Graves seemed to be expecting, as he stepped back into the assault, grabbing the back of Theseus’ shirt and waistcoat both, using his own momentum to roll him clean over his hip and crashing to the ground. 

Stunning spells rained down on the spot Theseus had fallen, but without wasting a second he’d already rolled away and back to his feet, sending a volley of hexes of his own - putting Graves back on the defense. 

Tina watched in equal parts awe and concern as the two of them whirled and ducked and dove around each other, magic flashing and crackling from the ends of their wands as they cast and blocked spells, almost at the same time. 

She was an auror - modesty regarding one’s abilities was a trait beaten out of their kind as trainees. She knew that she had a decent,  _ above decent _ even, talent for magic. She’d not be where she was if that wasn’t the case, certainly not with Graves as Director. But watching him and Theseus move with and against each other, almost like it was an old dance for the both of them - it was clear that they were very much on a different level. It was exciting to watch, to observe and learn from the display. It almost felt like when she was a student, watching her first professional match with her duelling club. 

Of course, on the other hand, she’d recently found herself far more invested in the physical well-being of her boss, and so it was with no small amount of alarm she watched as Theseus managed to land a jinx that swept Graves’ legs out from under him, sending him to the hard ground with a painfully audible thud. 

She winced also when he responded to this by kicking Theseus’ legs out from under him and sending him to the ground as well. 

“Merlin’s beard you dirty little bastard,” Theseus groaned as both he and Percival got back to their feet and clashed again, first with magic, and when none of that seemed to land, physically. 

Percival grabbed the front of Theseus’ shirt, driving him back in an effort to knock him off balance so he could strike again with his wand. 

At the same time Theseus had a hold of Percival’s collar, with the clear intention that if and when he did lose his footing, the other man was coming down with him. 

Sure enough before too long they both came crashing down to the ground, but the fight didn’t pause. Still clutching at the front of each other’s shirts they grappled for the moment, until Theseus - taller and heavier of the two, managed to get the upper hand and set about trying to wrestle Percival’s wand off of him. 

Unfortunately, the difficulty of that task meant he was caught completely off guard when Percival released his grip on his shirt and, using the knockback jinx, pushed him away so firmly he was sent staggering back to his feet. 

Once free Percival scrambled back to his upright as well, but not fast enough to block or dodge the expelliarmus that Theseus shot his way. His wand clattered to the ground, and for a second Tina thought the fight was over - but that didn’t seem to be the case. In the blink of an eye he was lunging forward and the two of them ended up locked in a grapple again. A fairly smart move actually, now she thought about it. It robbed Theseus of his freedom of movement, making landing another spell tricky, whilst keeping him preoccupied staying upright-

A bright burst of light flashing between the two of them - startling Tina from her thoughts. Theseus let out a bitten off curse and stumbled back, looking fairly dazed. With a sharp wave of his hand, he managed to bat Theseus’ wand from his own, leaving them both disarmed. Pressing his advantage, he surged forward and tackled the other man down to the ground. 

They grappled once again, but whatever Graves had cast had disorientated Theseus a fair bit. He wasn’t going down without a fight though. With difficulty Percival managed to get him on his back, straddling his hips and pinning him to the ground with a white-knuckled grip to the front of his shirt. His other hand reached out to the left, summoning his wand back to him. 

Theseus, for his part, attempted to buck him off, his left hand also clutching Percival’s collar as he too summoned his wand. 

Tina watched, in stunned silence along with the others as both mens’ wands flew to their masters’ hands, and as if mirroring one another, both were leveled with the other’s face.

Awes quickly gave way to worry. She wasn’t sure what to do. They really should stop them, before one did serious injury to the other. She was about to step forward before Theseus let out a loud bark of laughter and tipped his head back. 

“Shall we call it another draw?”

Percival grinned and scoffed at that, before inclining his head. 

“Probably for the best,” he replied, dropping his cocked back fist, and the wand clutched in it, before moving to sit beside the other man rather than on top of him. “Don’t want to send you back to England in pieces.”

“So cocky,” Theseus chuckled, still lying on the floor, his chest heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. 

“That. Was. Incredible!” Chambers cried, as he, Simpson and Wilson rushed forward (like over-exuberant puppies, Tina thought. Though she didn’t say as much).

“So lovely to be recognised,” Theseus chuckled from where he laid sprawled out on the floor as Percival got to his feet, rolling his eyes. 

“Such modesty,” he drawled, offering a hand up while turning his attention to them. “You all did really well too. We should definitely make sure to do this far more regularly, it was nice to see how far you’ve all progressed without the situation being a matter of life and death like it has been as of late.”

Tina smiled and nodded along with the others. Though as she thought about it, she felt her high spirits start to dampen. Because they did use to do this sort of thing a lot. Usually every week, circumstances allowing. They’d practice, Graves would critique and give guidance to the younger aurors. She’d used to dread it as a junior auror until Percival had sat her down and explained it truly was practice, rather than assessment. 

_ ‘You’d not be here if you weren’t up to the task.’ _

Then the sessions just became less and less, as Graves seemed to draw further and further away from them all and… now, looking back on it all, it was just so clear what was happening - why Grindelwald would want to introduce that distance and lessen the chances of getting found out. At the time it hadn’t felt like such a huge shift, they were such small, gradual changes, but still… they should have known. 

She startled when someone touched her shoulder, blinking up at Theseus, who was watching her carefully. The others were all busy grabbing their things and badgering Graves for pointers. They were alone. 

“You alright?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

Tina hesitated for a moment, before smiling and nodding. 

“Fine,” she replied. 

Theseus arched a brow at that, not looking in the least bit convinced. 

“Percival mentioned that you lot used to do this often,” he commented. 

Tina cringed. So he knew exactly what she was thinking. 

“Until about a year ago,” she muttered, folding her arms tight over her chest. “We should have noticed  _ then _ .”

Theseus hummed, not sounding nearly as condemning as Tina feared he might have. 

“You know,” he said casually. “There’s this old story that I think applies here - if you drop a frog in boiling water, it’ll jump back out and get away. If you drop a frog in tepid water and bring it gradually to the boil, the frog won’t realise and will be cooked alive before it was aware there was ever a danger.”

Tina blinked, a heavy feeling settling in her gut as she looked up at the man once again. 

“It’s a cautionary tale,” he explained. “Because it’s a very easy thing to not notice big changes when they’re introduced incrementally. You’re not the first people in the world to be duped in this manner… no theoretical frogs need have ever been harmed if that were the case.”

The corners of Tina’s lips twitched a little at that. 

“I guess,” she uttered. “Still.”

Theseus inclined his head. 

“Still,” he echoed, running a hand through his hair with a sigh, before shooting her a tired smile. “Regret’s understandable - truly. I regret not picking up on the clues too. Hindsights bloody 20/20. But it is what it is. The best thing you can do for regrets is to make sure that what caused them won’t happen again. Reflect, take what you can from what happened, learn from it and move on to the best of your ability. It will always sting, this nearly cooked us all alive, but it didn’t - and now you know to look out for the little things.”

Tina sighed and nodded, shooting Theseus a small smile. 

“I’ll try.”

“It’s easier said than done, I know,” Theseus replied with a smile, knocking his elbow gently against her arm before shrugging. “But Pup wants to move on from it and so our options are to either wallow in guilt and not let him, or try and learn from it and carry on… and kick Grindelwald’s bloody arse.”

Tina smiled a little wider at that, before the both of them noticed Percival walking over. 

“What are you two up to?” he drawled, arching his brow. 

Tina blinked as Theseus scoffed. 

“Now that would be telling,” he retorted, before tossing his coat over his arm. “We heading back?”

“I think so,” Percival replied, nodding. “Don’t want to wear everyone out too much. We’ve still got work to do.”

Tina sighed deeply at the thought of the wild diricawl-chase still awaiting them, drawing an amused laugh from Percival. 

“Just give it time. Worst case scenario, we’ll know our enemy a lot better than before, which is always a good thing,” he replied as they headed off back to the office with the others.

Once they arrived they all crowded around the main table in the middle of the bullpen, which was covered in files and piles of the information and notes they'd managed to scrounge up over the past week. 

“Alright, let’s go over what you’ve got,” Percival said, sitting down with the rest of them. 

Tina nodded and flicked through her notes. 

“Born 1883. Germany. Attended Durmstrang Academy. Expelled at age 16.”

“For?” Percival prompted as he flicked through a file in front of him. 

“We’ve sent off for further details,” Tina replied. “The only information we’ve got on that is that he was conducting ‘ _ twisted experiments _ ’.”

“Sounds about right,” Percival sighed, shaking his head. “Anything else?”

“He carved his symbol into the front of Durmstrang immediately following his expulsion,” Simpson supplied, pushing a photo of the vandalised castle wall. 

Percival grimaced as he looked at it. 

“Odd, don’t you think?” Theseus commented, leaning over to look at the image as well. 

Percival hummed, nodding. 

“Why’s it odd?” Tina asked, frowning. “Does it mean something?”

“Is it from a legend?” Chambers asked. 

“That would be less odd,” Percival replied, shaking his head. “It’s from a story.  _ The Tale of the Three Brothers _ .” He looked up at them and elaborated, “A bedtime story really. Like  _ The Mayor’s Magic Wand _ .”

Tina’s brows rose a little at the information. 

“There might be another meaning,” she suggested. “That seems odd.”

Percival nodded. 

“It does. Someone make a note and we’ll look into that later,” he said, nodding before turning his attention back to the files. “What else?”

“Well he goes a bit off the grid for a while after the expulsion,” Malik sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Next solid record we’ve got of him is when all of this started up. There are a few more incidents before that that fits his MO, we suspect that he may have had a hand in.”

Percival nodded. 

“Well there’s a big difference between experimental magic, even of the dark arts variety, and ambitions for world domination. Somewhere in that gap, Grindelwald’s priorities changed and I’d definitely like to figure out what it is that contributed to that,” he said. 

Tina and the others all hummed and nodded their agreement, making notes on the time period specified. 

Theseus leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I might have a few contacts that can help with that,” he replied, before shrugging. “Gonna have to borrow your fireplace though, Pup.”

“Right, that’s it,” Chambers sighed, flopping back in his chair and drawing the attention of the whole room to him. “Everyone wants to know but isn’t asking. Mr. Scamander,  _ why _ do you keep calling our boss  _ Pup _ .”

Theseus paused a moment as if he were trying to recall when he’d done so, before letting out a bark of laughter. 

“I hadn’t even realised,” he chuckled. 

Percival rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“This is going to take a while, so before he starts, is there anything else that stands out as important?”

“Not really,” Tina replied. “We’ve just been running background on the confirmed attacks and incidents Grindelwald’s been behind to compare and see if we can spot patterns throughout.”

Percival nodded his approval, before drawing in a deep breath and nodding to Theseus. 

“Go on,” he sighed, turning his attention back to reading the file in front of him. 

Grinning enthusiastically, Theseus leaned forward to tell his tale. 

“Well, as you know, your boss and I fought together during the war. We were partners. Spent most of it glued together.” he explained. “Now, for those of you that haven’t experienced it, you’ll be told how dreadful war is, the things you’ll see, the things you’ll have to do and endure. All perfectly legitimate commentary. What they don’t tell you about is how bloody boring the whole thing is between the nightmarish stuff.”

“...Okay,” Chambers said, frowning. 

“Well, I came up with the perfect thing to keep the two of us entertained for a while. A few months at the very least. I suggested we go through the process of becoming animagi.”

“Animagi?” Tina gasped, eyes wide and fixed on the top of Percival’s head as he continued to read through the files. 

“Isn’t that… well…  _ illegal? _ ”

“We’d have registered eventually,” Theseus replied, waving a hand. 

“Dangerous then?” Simpson countered. 

Theseus grinned wolfishly at that and shrugged. 

“Half the fun, wasn’t it?” he replied, before shrugging. “And we were risking bullets and curses every second of the day regardless, you sort of lose the sense of what  _ complete safety _ feels like. And like I said, we were bored. Bored enough for  _ Percival Graves _ here to agree to it. That should clue you into how desperate the situation was if nothing else.”

“Thank you,” Percival said dryly. 

“Facts are facts, Pup,” Theseus retorted. 

“Right, so you decided to become animagi, but something went wrong… or… are you-”

“Something went wrong,” Theseus sighed mournfully. “One of the steps in the process is to hold the leaf of a mandrake in your mouth for a month,” he explained. “I… may have swallowed mine during a nap halfway through.”

Percival’s aurors snickered quietly at the tale, some of them (Chambers, Cruz and Percival himself) openly, the others attempting to hide it behind hands or inside coffee mugs. 

“What about Mr. Graves though?” Simpson asked. “Did you swallow it too, Boss?”

“No I did not,” Percival replied, finally giving up on the report and leaning back in his chair himself. 

“No, Percival - being the goody-goody he is, managed to avoid that. However, after my incident, I appealed to his better nature,” Theseus replied, his voice taking on a reminiscent, earnest quality. “I said to him -  _ Percy _ , I said,  _ we started this journey together and that’s how we should end it. We can start over from the beginning but the important thing is that the two of us do this as a team, just as we first intended _ .”

He nodded a couple of times as Percival rolled his eyes and the rest of the team looked dubiously between them.

“...And… that worked?” Tina asked after a moment.

“No,” Theseus promptly replied. “Then he started to get smug. So I tackled him to the ground and stuck my fingers down his throat.”

Percival sighed deeply as  _ nobody _ made an effort to muffle their raucous laughter. 

“I should have done it anyway when I got home, just to spite you,” he grumbled, shooting Theseus a pointed look, only to sigh again when the man in question threw him a betrayed one. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Clearly.  _ I didn’t _ .”

“But hang on, if you didn’t actually finish the process, why do you call the Boss,  _ Pup _ ?” Malik asked once the others had calmed down. 

“Simple. A person’s animagus and a person’s patronus assume the same form. Percival’s is a dog, so  _ Pup _ . I wanted to call him  _ Nanny _ , but he’d keep getting in a strop about it.”

“ _ Nanny _ ?”

“My Patronus is a Pitbull,” Percival sighed. 

“Nanny dog,” Theseus helpfully supplied with a grin, drawing more snickers from the group and despairing mutterings about his reputation from Percival. 

“Right, so if Mr. Graves is  _ Pup  _ because his patronus is a dog.  _ Whiskers _ would make your patronus a cat?” Tina asked. 

“Of sorts,” Theseus replied with a shrug, before swishing his hand through their air and conjuring a silvery mist before him, which swiftly transformed into a rather formidable looking lion. 

“Typical, don’t you think?” Percival said, shaking his head despairingly. 

“Such a bitter puppy,” Theseus chuckled as his patronus dissolved into a silver mist, then out of sight. 

“But why try and become animagi at all?” Chambers asked. “I mean, I know you were bored. But it’s difficult and can’t have been that entertaining the whole time. And all you get out of it is turning into an animal which is… I mean, it’s neat, but not really practical. Especially in a war. Why didn’t you… experiment with spells instead?”

“We did that too. But it actually did have some practical uses during the war,” Theseus replied with a shrug. “More Percival than me, because he’s a bit less conspicuous. But it would make crossing dangerous areas a little bit less hazardous. Help with reconnaissance or espionage missions too. Like if we needed to get information from the middle of a village that was being held by the enemy. It would have been far easier to send Percival as a dog in than us trying to find a disguise, then transfigure ourselves, then peel through the wards to get in.”

“Do wards not recognise animagi?” Simpson asked, frowning. 

Tina frowned a little as well when Percival, who’d been calmly shuffling through papers a second before, froze in place. 

Theseus shook his head. 

“Nah. When you’re in animal form, for all outwards purpose you  _ are _ that animal. So unless wards are designed to block out  _ everything _ , which few are because of how laborious it is to put them in place and maintain them, an animagus would be able to slip right past them like they weren’t… there…”

Theseus trailed off, frowning thoughtfully himself. 

“Which… now I think about it… “ he said slowly, turning (along with everyone else) to look at Percival, who had his eyes screwed shut like he was suddenly experiencing a terrible headache. 

“He’s famously accomplished at transfiguration,” Graves muttered, eyes still squeezed shut. “It’s hardly beyond his abilities.”

A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone arrived at the same conclusion. 

“...That fucker,” Theseus uttered before both he and Percival jumped to their feet and tore out of the bullpen and to the elevator down the hall. 

“ _ HE STOLE OUR IDEA!!” _


End file.
